What the Zimmerman's Saw
by Entrenched
Summary: First part of the "What They Saw" series.  A little tryst invites more than just pleasure.  Again, read at your own risk.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** Legal babble. Bleh. I do not own Sanctuary or its characters. Sad face.

**A/N:** This story is part of the Almond Wafers Universe; however this is going to be part of my new series called "What They Saw". Can be seen as continuation but for the most part stands alone. This is meant to be a light and hearty fiction that also gives me an excuse to play with Willy and Abby, such an adorable couple. Their quirks make me wanna shrink them and put them in my pocket!

Not sure how…um…descriptive this will get. Kind of winging it. Enjoy!

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><p>Inhaling the fresh winter air, John was glad to be home. He had spent the last three weeks overseas in England working as a consultant for the British police. Apparently, his recent cases with the DA had his name traveling about in major circles and they wanted him to lead the conviction against the son of the corporate executive of Zynergy, a leading weapons manufacturing company. The case became a hassle, John had been outmatched financially, his resources limited, and the board of executives including the CEO and father of the boy seemed to have everyone under their thumb. Fortunate for him, James Watson, noted police detective in Old City and long time friend, accompanied and assisted in gathering the evidence needed to build the case.<p>

In the long run, he had managed to get his conviction in front of a jury. It took him three weeks to get the court in his favor, but he had won out despite the death threats and warnings. Finally, he was back in Old City. More specifically, he was home and soon to be reunited with his lovely wife.

For the past few weeks, he had been contacting his wife on the phone every night. The time zones allowed them to chat when they were both awake, him at night and she in the morning or during her painting hours. Their conversations had kept him sane and her insight on certain situations kept him refreshed. The conversations also kept his…frustrations at bay. His wife's level of creativity did not just end with painting, something which he was recently reminded of.

A sharp cold chill whipped his heavy overcoat around his legs, signaling that he should enter the house before he received frostbite on his head. Reaching down, he picked up the heavy suitcase and made his way inside the house. The blast of warmth from the interior was a welcomed feeling. The music that permeated the residence a comfort he had missed overseas. But, it was the sight of his wife on the couch that brought a warmth to his chest that had nothing to do with the heat capsulated in their home.

There she was, resting upon her side. One arm was tucked underneath the pillow her head lay upon, dark curls surrounding her angelic features, her long slender legs eloquently bent at the knees as her other hand rested next to her head on top of the soft cushion. She was asleep. She was so beautiful. John gently dropped his suitcase at the end of the hallway wall; he shrugged himself out of the heavy overcoat and tossed the article of clothing onto the living room chair followed by the navy blue blazer he wore.

His eyes remained riveted to the sinfully delectable creature upon the couch. Sharp blue eyes taking in the sight of the woman laying there in peaceful repose. John's eyes traced the delicate arch of her brows, the high set of her cheek bones, and plush lips that he knew were feather soft when kissed. There was nothing, absolutely nothing about this woman that he did not find attractive.

Helen looked good in whatever she wore; be it skirts and sweaters in the house, jeans and t-shirts, dress suits when she watched one of his cases in court, or nothing at all; she looked stunning. And his point was proven once again, his vixen of a wife was clad in what he could tell was his dress shirt. A crisp maroon linen button down shirt was wrapped around her body. The tails of the shirt would have ended an inch above her knees, but given her current sleeping position, it had risen up to mid thigh.

He continued his perusal, roving down her slender neck towards the hint of bosom and lace that peeked above the third button. She was wearing black lace today. A dark chuckle rose from within that broad chest, his wife was always practical, if she had to get dirty to get something done, she would take it full force. However, when it came to underwear, she luxuriated in every sense of the word. He could not complain. He relished the exhilaration his wife permeated whenever she bought new underwear.

His favorite moments were when they shopped for her little delicates together. Eyes slipped closed in ecstasy at the memories of Helen trying on several lingerie outfits and pieces at Victoria's Secret. Different styles in multiple colors and he enjoyed sitting there and watching her slide open the curtain in the private fitting rooms and asking him how she looked. Fissions of pleasure ran down his spine at the thoughts but brought his mind back to the present.

Slowly and as silently as possible, he closed the distance between himself and his wife. He gently eased his body onto the edge of the couch, long lean fingers reaching out to trace over the soft cheek of her face. It amazed him how at times she was able to feel his presence there for she tossed her head slightly in his direction at the contact. This forced her face closer to his errant fingers as a sigh of what he could only describe as contentment, escape her lips. He stroked her cheek, relishing the feel of the silken flesh beneath his fingertips.

Helen was blissfully unaware of her recent guest. She was caught up in the throes of a very erotic dream with her very own handsome lawyer as a co-star. With her husband gone for almost a month, she was in a state of sexual limbo. John had always been passionate and she might even go so far as to say insatiable. And she loved every minute of his unbridled sexual desire for her. However, after being denied access to him for this long, even she was starting to feel the effects of the distance.

Being pragmatic, she had initiated phone sex with him the first night he called. Something they had not done since college when she would go spend her summers with her father traveling while he travelled to America to be with his mother or remain at London to work. That night John reacted in a very…un-John-like manner. He had stuttered and seemed embarrassed to even go along with the idea of phone sex. His excuses were cut short when she unabashedly reminded him of how she had been more than willing to masturbate for him on the balcony during one of his client's Christmas masquerade balls, while the party was at full swing no less.

In the end, she had won. He had been hesitant at first, but the nights after that first night proved that her husband was a perfectionist in everything he set his mind to. He went so far as to suggest using the webcam on their individual laptops. Now that was an experience Helen would never forget. Stretching languidly on the couch, eyes fluttered open. The most intoxicating scent of sandalwood and the crisp clean scent of John's aftershave floated along her senses before the blurry shadow in front of her solidified into the stark lines of her lover.

"John!" her surprised shout would have echoed off the walls had she not been so groggy from her nap, instead it sounded more like a heated whisper interlaced with a moan.

"Good evening, love," he replied. A crooked smile curved those usually strict lips of his before he leaned down to gently kiss her temple.

"What are you doing here?" she questioned, her body once again stretching to release the tension that always came from sleeping on one's couch.

John made a show of sitting back up completely surprised. He reached over and turned off her iTouch and cocked his head to the side as if he were listening for a particular sound. He then abruptly stood up and craned his neck to look beyond the glass window of the front door, "no police cars about, and no clothes strewn out on the lawn. Well, my dear, I can hazard a guess and say that I still live here, hm?"

She would have rolled her eyes at his antics had he not suddenly stooped down and captured her mouth in a frenzied passionate kiss. Her mouth parted to shriek in surprise and he took the opportunity to glide that experienced tongue of his into the cavern of her mouth. She mentally cursed that fact that her lover was not just a good kisser, but a fantastic one.

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><p>Will Zimmerman was bone tired. After weeks of preparing for two major surgeries that were scheduled back to back earlier in the morning he was bombarded with phone calls to attempt another surgery for a colleague who apparently caught a late flight back from vacation. The surgery had gone as well as could be expected considering that fact that Will only had a little over an hour to read the charts and patient history and with no consult to keep him up to speed on the difficulties that might occur during open heart surgery.<p>

Now, he was home. Never, had he ever been so happy with thoughts of crawling through the front door and just collapse on the living room rug. Before passing through the threshold of his house, Will paused and strained his ears into the night. It was silent. Impossible.

A quick glance towards the house across the street reassured the young cardiologist that his neighbor was indeed home. He saw the grey Audi A7 but was also surprised to see a sleek black Mercedes parked right next to it. His wife, Abby, and he had just recently moved into the new house a week ago. He had learned from the very first night that his neighbor seemed to be up in all ours of the evening with her music just blasting down the street, and had done so consistently every night after that.

The third night of hearing music filtering from the house, Abby could not take it any longer and neither could Will. He had surgeries, consults, meetings, and follow-ups with patients to do in the morning and he was losing sleep every night with that crazy woman constantly keeping the neighbors up. The morning after, he had gone over to her house and knocked on the door. He was met with a rather attractive looking woman who was slightly taller than he with thick dark brown hair flowing down to the middle of her back. Her sharp blue eyes held a level of intelligence that blew his mind away. He also noted that she seemed a bit bedraggled and must have just woken up considering the state of dress she was in.

Clad in only a pair of very, very short silk shorts and a matching silken top, Will had to blush at the sight of long, smooth slender legs and a very well toned body for a woman of her age. He had to cough and jerk his head up when he noticed that she wore no bra considering the state of her peaked nipples underneath the thin spaghetti strapped camisole. His neighbor must have noticed for she quickly shut her matching blue silken robe followed by a rather clipped, "may I help you!" in a terse British accent.

Safe to say, Will had been very embarrassed and made a complete idiot of himself. It had to have been the worst first impression ever, ogling your neighbor and getting busted. He told her that the music was bothering his wife and he continued to say that he was fine with it and ended the conversation by practically running back to his house, face flushed with barely a goodbye. Will had completely avoided her for the remainder of the week. Luckily, his schedule of leaving early and coming home late provided the perfect excuse to never have to speak or look at his neighbor ever again.

With one final glance at the black Mercedes, Will shuffled into his house. He idly pondered who would be visiting that woman this late. She had no other visitors previously.

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><p>John broke the kiss with the lovely nymph underneath him. With hooded eyes, he took in the sight of her face flushed with desire. The tinge of pink that blossomed across her cheeks was a very erotic sight. A smile of bemusement crossed his features when he noticed her mentally shaking the dreamy cobwebs from her mind before fixing him with one of her fiercest glares.<p>

"That was not fair," she scolded with eyes closed, "and you will not slip by without answering my question just because you are an excellent kisser."

"Oh! I'm an excellent kisser, am I?"

Eyelids snapped open to see that arrogantly cocky half grin that only John could ever make sexy. She should have known better than to praise any of his talents, even if in mockery. Ignoring his comment, she pointedly crossed her arms underneath her bosom, not realizing that her breasts were practically jutting out of the maroon shirt she had pilfered from his side of the closet. John, however, did notice and responded by arching one of his brows and glancing down at the sweet globes of flesh that teased his senses just underneath red and black fabric.

Helen noticed his distraction and planted one finger underneath his chin, forcing his gaze back to her eyes, "I would prefer to have your attention up here."

"I am much inclined to try and change that opinion of yours," he stated with a leer. His words were followed by a kiss to her lips and a trail of even more kisses leading downwards towards her breasts.

"John…," she whispered huskily. He really was determined to distract her tonight. With a strength and will that she did not know she possessed around this man, Helen managed to push against John's shoulders. He grudgingly gave in and gave her an exasperated sigh, leaning back up once again, "I want answers now."

"If you insist, my dear," he pecked her once more on the lips, would have preferred to give her more had she not turned her head away when his exuberance to make out with her like a teenager on her dad's couch made itself known.

"You told me you would not be back until Thursday of next week."

"Well, I had expected the case to take longer considering the bugger James and I were in. No leads, no witnesses, nothing. However, old Jimmy was looking at photographs taken at the crime scene and found a picture of a girl that the boy was acquainted with mingling in the background. We tracked her down and she confessed to everything. It was the break we were looking for and cut our stay in England much shorter. A full conviction, love," by the end of his recap, he was beaming like a child on Christmas morning.

"Congratulations!" she retorted, opening her arms to him before planting a well deserved kiss to the corner of his lips, "but why didn't you call? I could have at least done something for you and James to welcome you both back." John had to admit that her small pout was arousing him thoroughly.

"Oh, I'm sure the old boy is tired and has most likely already passed out in his apartment. You know, he suffers terribly from jet lag. I had to carry him partially up to his apartment after driving him home. Just to rouse him from sleep in the seat was a herculean effort! I, however, am here. And most ready to accept your congratulations," he winked at her slyly causing Helen to break into a fit of laughter.

As her chuckles subsided she decided to reward her husband with a thorough snog. Tongues lashing out to soothe his own, fingers gliding over his smooth bald head, and breasts pressing up against his chest. Their heated kissing session was interrupted by the sound of his stomach rumbling. Helen broke the kiss and gave him a rather amused look.

"Sorry, my dear. The plane didn't serve anything that could be regarded as food."

"My poor heart," she cooed, "I suppose we should make you something to eat." Pushing for him to get up, he did. He offered her his hand and she was lifted from the comfort of the cushions by him. Not letting go of that strong warm palm she led him into the kitchen. "Lucky for you I haven't eaten either," she quipped, her dark waves of brown hair tossing over her shoulder as she looked at him.

"Hm, so what was for dinner?"

She watched as John leaned over the counter after following her into the kitchen and so she turned to the refrigerator, "I was going to make our thin crust pizza."

She waited for his response but found none forthcoming. When he did not reply at all, she turned to drop the vegetables and dough onto the counter and lash out at him. That was when she noticed that John seemed to be staring, correction, glaring at something outside the window.

"What's wrong John?" she twisted her head to see what had caught his attention but saw nothing.

"A boy was staring at the house for a good 5 minutes," he muttered. She looked back at him and found his brows furrowed deeply. Laughter bubbled in her throat and she walked over to her husband, arms wrapping gently around his neck.

"That must have been William Zimmerman. He's our new neighbor along with his wife. They moved in about a week ago," she commented off-handedly.

"That doesn't explain his sudden gawking."

Oh…perhaps not…," she cleared her throat slightly before making her way back to the other side of the counter. She barely made it two steps before John's long fingers wrapped around her forearm, gently tugging her back to his broad chest.

"Helen…," she was keeping something from him. He knew that tone she used, the hesitancy in her voice always indicated that there was something she was holding back. When he turned her around to face him, the deep crimson shade of her face validated his suspicions. His wife cast her eyes around, looking anywhere but at him. "Helen," he repeated sternly.

"There may have been an incident-,"

"An incident!" he interrupted.

"An incident," she continued as if he had not said anything, "where Dr. Zimmerman may have been prelude to a startling sight."

She was being vague on purpose and he knew it, "and what startling sight would that be, my dear."

"He may have seen me clad in that blue camisole you bought me for Valentine's Day 3 years ago," she waited for it, knowing how jealous and possessive John was.

"What!"

'And there it is,' she thought abysmally. Truly, her husband's temper could make an active volcano look like a gurgling cheap imitation. She used his momentary outburst to break his hold and return to the vegetables and dough she had placed on counter earlier. "Really John, there is no need to shout. It was an accident. In fact, it's your fault entirely!"

"My fault!" he sputtered indignantly, "I didn't ask you to traipse up to the young man and give him a bloody show," John tried to reign in his anger and jealousy. A difficult task considering every time he closed his eyes all he could imagine was Helen in that gorgeous blue camisole set he had bought her. It was one of his favorite outfits of hers. The shorts hugged her upper thighs displaying the shape of her legs perfectly. The thin spaghetti strap top was made of blue silk and lace and hugged her body loosely but offered the most incredible view of her breasts. His wife looked like sex on legs in it. Delectable, and that _boy_ had seen her dressed like that.

"Yes, your fault. If you hadn't called me that morning and tried to arouse me into another round of," she made a rather vulgar, if not enticing, gesture with her hands, "I would have been dressed properly and been in the right state of mind when I answered the door that morning!"

Instantly, an image of Helen flush faced and nipples peaked answering the door with her hair haphazardly framing her face in that tell-tale sign of complete arousal had him fuming. Bad enough the boy had seen her dressed like that, but he had caught her at the very peak of her aroused state. A state she was in because of him.

John remembered that night clearly. He had initiated the encounter. His lovely wife had been groggy from sleep but a few minutes of encouraging and heated whispers had her panting and soaking wet. Half an hour later they were both so close to that peak and she ended the conversation when she informed him that there was someone knocking on the door. Safe to say that she never returned the call and he had been stuck with taking a very long, very cold shower.

"You could have put on a robe," he whispered heatedly, fingers massaging his temples.

"I was wearing a robe, the one that came with the bloody outfit," she snapped back.

"That hardly covers anything!"

"Well, you bought the damned thing. Next time buy a longer robe!" was her cheeky retort. Her temper was starting to match his. How dare he blame her for that incident! It was not as if she was willingly giving the boy a free show to enjoy. If her damned husband was not so keen in driving her mad with lust she would have put on one of his much larger sweaters.

She opened her mouth once more to give another scalding lecture about his temper when she noticed that he was rubbing his temples. Something he only did with a splitting migraine. Her features softened and she realized that an argument was hardly conducive in leading to a seductive night. And this would be his first night after nearly a month of not being able to physically touch each other, and Lord only knew how much she missed touching that rock solid body of his.

John knew he was overreacting; well overreacting may be an understatement. He knew Helen would not willingly flaunt herself in that outfit unless she truly had no choice or was not in the correct mindset, which he had to admit he should have been flattered about considering at was he who had caused her disorientation and just over the phone. His reverie was broken when he felt cool fingers trace over his forehead.

"John it was an accident," she whispered. He lifted his head and dropped his hands and was instantly relaxed when he felt his angel's soft slender fingers firmly rubbing his temples. He moaned in gratification.

"I know, I just get very-"

"Jealous? Possessive? Tempermental?" she finished for him with a very toothy grin before returning to her preparations.

John stood up and followed right behind her, "I was going to say easily irritated," she snorted at that comment and he punished her by pinching her bottom which earned him a smack to the shoulder and an indignant squeak. "I'm hardly jealous, especially over that _boy_," she noted how he whispered the word 'boy' with disdain.

"Hardly jealous?" she turned around to face him, effectively trapping herself between his solid body and the island behind her. Her predicament was not helped by his arms locking onto the solid table top. "Need I remind you of the incident at James' party last New Year's Eve?"

John grimaced at that memory but he refrained from commenting.

"Ah, so you do remember. If I recall your hand had to be stitched and the receiver of your right hook was unconscious until the next morning," a fine dark brow lifted and glowing sapphire eyes locked onto his.

"And if I recall I was richly rewarded for my chivalry afterwards," he tried to soften the verbal blow to his character by reminding her how his "right hook" had earned him a very sexually aroused Helen tearing his clothes off inside the car after being stitched at the hospital. If he had no self control that night, he was sure his wife's legs would have been up in the air on the hood instead of the back seat.

"That's not the point," she was embarrassed about that encounter. She had been so turned on by the sight of John pummeling the drunken man who had the audacity to squeeze her ass that she had practically jumped him in the hospital parking garage. She continued, "you, John Montague Druitt, are a very jealous, possessive, and temperamental man. And lucky for you, I have come to accept that part of you, much to the detriment of my sanity."

"So," he immediately switched tactics. If there was one thing that John feared, it was a very angry Helen. If people thought his anger and temper were something to be reckoned with, then they had never come face to face with his wife at the height of her rage. Even he cowered when faced with that wrath. With a suave grin, "I drive you insane?" he practically purred.

Helen knew what he was doing. Her first reaction was to slap him, but the practical sensible woman inside of her clawed out; reminding her that it was his first night back.

"Interminably," she responded as he brushed his lips against hers. "But you are a jealous man." She was not going to capitulate so willingly to his seduction.

John groaned, knowing her stubbornness could most likely outlast his own and so he admitted defeat. Helen was far better adept in denying him pleasure as well as herself than he was, "yes, I get very jealous. When other men look at you and undress you with their eyes, all I see is red."

Now that was unexpected! John actually admitting he was wrong about something. That was a rare occurrence in itself. She relished her victory, but still, that was not enough for her. She wanted to tease him a little more.

"Shouldn't you be flattered then, dear? The fact that I am very much appreciated by a younger generation should show you how wonderfully lucky you are to have me," she could not help the feral grin that crossed her face as her index finger traced the hard edge of his mouth.

"Oh, so you enjoy getting ogled at by younger men," he whispered while pecking her lips chastely. His arms wound around her waist, pressing her closer as he felt her hands slide up his chest towards his neck. God, she felt wonderful in his arms. Her body, so soft and supple, that it molded perfectly with his own. "Tell me, did the feel of that Zimmerman boy's eyes looking you up and down excite you, my love?" John nibbled her lobe as he continued to murmur in her ear, "did it arouse you and make you ache between your legs?"

"Oh God! John!" she couldn't answer coherently, couldn't speak properly. All she was aware of was his voice. That low seductive baritone that made a sticky wetness pool between her legs. This man could drive her to insanity in mere seconds. He knew her body and how to elicit the strongest sexual reaction from her.

"Did the desire in his eyes make you want to slide your hand between your legs and rub yourself so fiercely that you would come trembling on the living room floor?" she whimpered in response and John growled.

[To be continued.]

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><p><strong>AN:** Well what do you guys think so far? Usually my pieces are much longer in total but I thought it would be easier to bear reading if I broke it down to chapters instead of bogging people down with one whole layer of text.

Since I have been asked and reviewed to extend this universe, I hope this fits the bill! I love being able to dally in this alternate universe, although I must admit I have a few ideas for the regular universe. I have just not been able to put pen to paper. The one that deals with the regular universe post last episode seems to be epically longer than I had first thought. So we'll see if that ever gets posted.

Also, I need to know who you guys want to read about next. Should it be James Watson? Our favorite snarky but charming engineer? Invisible man? Or maybe an introduction of Ashley or Ms. Freelander with a mix of Henry Foss? I leave it all up to you!


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Sanctuary.

A/N: Ok part 2! Again, I am totally winging this guys sooo I have no idea how long it will be. Also I might throw some Abby/Will smut love in this chapter or some other chapter. But technically I would have to say that this is essentially a PWP. Just fluffiness and loving.

Oh and I must warn you all now. If you do not like the concept or are offended by thoughts of voyeurism please do not read. I know some people get squeamish about being watched or watching. And let it be known now, in my universe, Ashley is alive! The Druitt's have a child!

Oh and for clarification, my author's note in the first chapter was related to this story. Who should the next victim be in our little Magnus/Druitt sexcapades?

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><p>"Abby! I'm home!" Will closed the front door, dropping his briefcase next to the potted plant they kept near the entrance, "Abby?"<p>

Will loosened his tie as he slid his jacket off. He wanted to get out of the constricting suit as soon as possible. After having spent more than 12 hours being choked by that tie and being bugged down by the jacket, he was ready to just go au natural and scream "to hell with it!" at the top of his lungs. When the heavy article of clothing was off he made his way to the living room and tossed the two articles of clothing onto the back of the loveseat just as his wife popped her head out of the kitchen.

"Hey you!" the enthusiastic energy that Abby exuded was a beacon of comfort for William Zimmerman. He sighed airily with a stroke of happiness and spread his arms out horizontally in front his body. He slackened his face into a perfect image of a brain dead human as he performed a mock zombie walk towards her.

"Must. Hug. Now." He emphasized each word with a stomp. Giggling, the blonde haired angel of his dreams squealed and made her way towards the dining room, only to be pursued by her husband. She managed to make it to the other side of the dining room table before brandishing a wooden spoon towards him.

"No," she ducked left and he followed, "Will, stop. I'm warning you!" she feigned right then burst left towards the living room hoping for escape. But Will was expecting the move and instantly shot to his right to follow and catch her. One arm wrapped around her waist and fingers on his other hand began to tickle her ribs. Laughter erupted from Abby intermixed with shrieks of 'nos' and 'stops'.

"Are you gonna hug me now?" intervened Will as his fingers relented for a few seconds to give her time to take in air and respond. His wife did just that, taking in huge gulps of air as she calmed her adrenaline down before giving him a playful glare of defiance.

"Fine, you get a hug," she interjected with each breath, "but just ONE hug!"

"And a kiss?" Will's lips formed into a huge smooch as his fingers curled once more and moved into tickling position. He enjoyed the sight of the young woman squirming, trying to get away from his impressive tickling skills.

"Yes! A kiss too!" she hollered before his fingers could make contact with her sensitive side again. Somehow in their little tickle fight, they had both collapsed onto the large cream couch. She was lying on her back and tucked in the corner and her husband loomed over her with his knees digging into the cushions. His legs were on either side of hers.

Will felt the slender arms of his wife wrap around his neck and pull him down into a bear hug. He had to laugh as he returned the hug with equal force and devotion before pulling back and leaning down to capture her mouth in a slow tender kiss. His tongue darted out to trace her upper then lower lips, respectfully asking for entrance. She flowered open her mouth, giving him all the access he needed. Sensually, his tongue began to probe the small space, relishing the taste of honey and citrus that always seemed to accompany her.

Abby moaned underneath her husband, his tongue was doing some rather magnificent things to her body. She was becoming rather light headed from the lack of oxygen and was thankful and depressed when Will pulled away to intake a huge breath. She did the same as her fingers interlocked around his neck.

"Welcome home, Dr. Zimmerman," she stated with a large smile on her face.

"Well hello to you too, Mrs. Zimmerman," Will replied with a shy grin. He reached up to straighten his glasses, which had skewed during their kiss, but his wife beat him to the punch. She removed them altogether and planted a kiss to his nose.

"How was work?" she placed his glasses on the side table before turning her gaze back at him and settling back down into the thick cushions rather comfortably.

"Good. Really good," he nodded his head in time with each syllable but he saw the look in Abby's eyes and sighed, "alright not so good. Bearable, but long. I had to perform a surgery on a patient that wasn't even mine because his doctor woke up late in the Caribbean after drinking too much the night before and missed his flight. Don't get me wrong!" he reassured her when he saw the horrified look on her face. "The surgery was a success, but just a pain. I could've sworn my heart stopped every time his blood pressure dropped!"

Abby noticed the stress lines around her husband's blue eyes. The strain was obviously there, lingering just underneath that usual vibrant twinkle. Fingers traced the corners of his eyes, traveling down his cheek and finally over his lips. "I'm sorry to hear that, sweety."

Will just shook his head and pressed a finger firmly to her lips to silence any other comments she had, "no. It wasn't your fault. Just a bad day," he told her before rolling off to the side and dragging her along to sit on top of him. He nuzzled her neck and hung his arms loosely around her waist. "So what's for dinner? I barely had time to stop and pick up a sandwich."

"Oh! My poor baby!" she crowed with motherly concern before rubbing his stomach and standing up, "I made some beef stew earlier. When I saw you pull up I started to reheat it." She practically pranced into the kitchen twirling her wooden spoon around as she called out, "I also bought some of that Italian bread you love from the store. You can eat it with that."

"Sounds good," he hollered back to her, "I'm just gonna grab a shower. I feel like I have parasites crawling all over me ya know?" he shivered subconsciously as his hands began to scratch over his chest and arms, "with all that scrubbing and blood."

"Alrighty. I'll come get you when this is all done."

With that, Will stood and made his way upstairs, feet trudging on the carpet. Reaching the master bedroom, he shed his dress shirt into the hamper followed by his socks and pants. He hung his belt in the closet and placed his shoes on the rack, knowing that his wife was a bit of an organizational freak. He learned earlier during their dates that although it wasn't an obsessive compulsion, she preferred to have everything back in its original setting. Her excuse of "better to just do it now then do it later" had him relatively convinced.

Satisfied that everything was in order, he dropped his boxers and tossed that into the hamper as well. He entered the spotless white en suite bathroom and made his way towards the linen cabinet. He sucked in a sharp breath as he felt the cold tiles underneath his feet, causing him to hop around for a bit from the sensation. Grabbing a nice fluffy white towel, he turned towards the shower, turned it on, and let the water warm up.

Whistling a little tune, Will turned to face the mirror and tossed the towel onto the sink counter. He looked himself up and down before turning his head towards the slightly open bathroom door. The bedroom, from what he could see, was empty. Good. Turning back to his reflection, the young cardiologist lifted his arms and began to flex. Driving, sifting through paperwork, performing surgeries that would keep him on his feet for hours, and attending meetings rarely gave doctors time to build a regiment of exercise.

Will had to admit that he still looked good. His body had not given out like most doctors did the first two years into their practice. His arms were still solid, had good muscle definition. He brought his arms into 90 degree angles with fists facing the ceiling and watched as his biceps and triceps bulged from the pressure.

"Not bad. Not bad," he murmured. He shrugged his shoulders and dropped one arm curling it toward his hip to get a better look at the muscles at his shoulders, even twisting sideways to get a better view. He liked what he saw so far. Loosening his arms, he let them flop back to his sides before facing the mirror again. He looked at his chest and traced the definition between his pectorals. Still prominent, even his abs was still defined.

"Still got the six pack," he nodded his head and spread his legs shoulder width apart and flexed his arms against his lower abdominals. This effectively flexed his shoulders, arms, and chest at the same time.

"Looking good there, Mr. Universe," came a rather amused voice from the doorway. Will turned on his bare heel and saw his wife leaning against the door frame, arms crossed, and staring at him. There was a huge grin on her face, telling him that she had been standing there long enough to hear most, if not all, of his self pep talk.

"Abby!" Will reached sideways and grabbed the towel, placing it strategically over his groin as a flush of absolute embarrassment and mortification formed over his face. "I…uh…I was just…just…um…"

"Relearning basic human anatomy?" she finished for him helpfully, still with that massive grin. She was enjoying her husband's acute embarrassment over this little incident. She knew that Will wasn't arrogant about his body. Although he was slightly self conscience at times it never manifested to the degree of him flexing in front of the bathroom mirror. She concluded that he was probably going through some sort of phase. Maybe she should work to try and reassure him that he was still as sexy as he was when they met three years ago.

"Uh…yea…human anatomy…," the blush on his cheeks was still so adorable that she had to save him. Pushing off the frame, Abby practically skipped her way towards her husband and grabbed the towel from his hand and let it purposefully drop to the floor.

"You know what Dr. Zimmerman," she whispered huskily as her eyes roved over the taut expanse of her husband's body.

"What?" he replied, suppressing the groan the wanted to slip out as her fingernails grazed over his chest towards his stomach.

"You're so damned sexy and…," she whispered intimately into his ear.

"And?" the suspense and the sexual tension were killing him. Abby's little seductive rouse was making him very eager to just pick her up and take her right on the counter. He could feel himself harden and respond to her teasing like an over eager teen.

"And…," she drew out the first vowel on purpose before nibbling on his earlobe, "the water is warm enough for you to take that shower you wanted," she giggled before giving him one last kiss and pranced her way back towards the door. She could hear the loud groan from his general direction before looking over her shoulder; hand paused delicately on the door knob.

The look on his face broke all her mental mantras of not laughing. He had his eyes closed, head tilted back, face pinched in a grimace, and a raging hard on just pointing straight at her, "you might wanna make that a cold shower sweety!"

Will heard the door close with a click and grumbled out loud. In their year and a half marriage, Abby had learned to relentlessly tease him. To the point of perfection, no less. Still grumbling rather loudly, he absentmindedly ran his fingers through his hair in his typical frustrated manner. He would get her back, he swore to himself. Sliding open the glass partition, Will entered the shower and let the warm water soak his chilled skin.

When that insistent throb between his legs refused to go away, he heeded his wife's suggestion and switched the temperature to cold.

* * *

><p>"Your answer, Helen," he was using <em>that<em> voice. That bedroom baritone that reverberated like velvet covered steel. Commanding, seductive, and made Helen want to melt into a puddle onto the floor. The voice that demanded to be obeyed and held such a dark command she was useless in trying to resist.

"Answer? Answer to what?" she mumbled senselessly. All she wanted was for John to continue nibbling on her ear, to feel his warm breath gliding over her neck as he attacked that sensitive bundle of nerves an inch below her erratic pulse, a point that she knew he knew would drive her to distraction. However, tonight he was playing coy, slowly but surely driving her to the brink of mindless sexual insanity before giving her release. He did enjoy his torments.

"Tut, tut, tut, my dear. You must start paying closer attention," he chided gently, still using that husky dark tone. As if knowing exactly where her mind was wandering, he slowly dipped his head to brush his teeth against her thumping pulse, dropping just slightly bit lower to slide the point of his tongue against the flesh there. Instantly he felt her shiver of delight. Satisfied at her reaction, one of his hands released the counter top to gently massage her hip. His hand dropped lower until it met the hem of his maroon dress shirt that she was currently wearing.

Slowly, he dragged the pads of his fingertips along the creamy expanse of her firm outer thighs. The blunt edge of his nails slightly scratching here and there. "You should truly make an effort to answer now, my love," he urged her gently, fingers rising along silken skin, taking the dress shirt with him.

"Yes, yes, yes," she chanted. She felt his fingers pause in their path along her now exposed inner thighs. 'What was it he said?' she thought helplessly. 'An answer. He wanted an answer. An answer to what!' she groaned in frustration, 'how the fuck does he expect me to think straight while he is rubbing me so bloody close to _there_.'

John was currently using the pad of his thumb to rub small circles against her pubic bone. The thick appendage tucked under the edge of her lace thong to trace that prominent pubic bone before continuing to rub again.

"Yes? So you do enjoy the idea of the young Zimmerman lad staring at you with fire in his eyes? You want him to watch you shake and tremble in release after having pleasured yourself with thoughts of him?" he practically growled the words out against her ear.

'What? What, what what? What in the bloody hell is he talking about!' she mentally shouted. Her brain was currently incapable of engaging her mouth to form any response to his rather ludicrous statement. Any effort to make any such denial was thrown into oblivion when she felt two of his long, thick fingers invade her warm center, viciously pumping into her tight sheath with such force she had to grab onto his shoulders for support in fear of collapsing from the sensation.

"What is this?" he spoke with a tinge of mocked shock. "The lady is soaking wet. Are thoughts of your young lover making you ache with arousal and causing this sudden…flood?" John slowly withdrew his index and middle finger until only the tips were the only parts kept warm with her scalding heat. He waited until she relaxed a notch before driving those fingers back in, twisting them for good measure to prolong the pleasure.

"Oh God!" she moaned breathlessly, one hand dropping to wrap around his thick wrist, keeping his hand in a firm position and stopping that twisting gesture. She could only take so much of this.

"Not quite the name I was searching for, love. However, it is close," she knew that if she were to look at him right now, he would have that trademark devilish smirk printed on his face. He was purposely using his body and acquired skills to torture her. Never, in all her years of marriage to this man, would she have thought he would use the prospect of her taking on a side lover, a younger one at that, as a form of foreplay.

And never would she have thought that it would arouse her this much. But she would _not_ be outdone. Helen Druitt was many things, but she was no coward. If he wanted to play this game with her, she would play for all she was bloody well worth.

"Yes. The idea of him watching me pleasure myself is exciting," she paused inhaling deeply, "it makes my heart race and my body tingle," Helen confessed with a breathy sensation. She felt John tense, she smirked. He had not expected that answer at all. He was confident she would have caved in and claimed that only he could excite her in such a manner with mere thought and beg for release. No, this was definitely not what he had expected. But then again, if his little nymph of a wife was so easily predictable, he would never have married her.

"Is that so?" it took years of marriage for Helen to recognize the hesitancy in his voice. As a well experienced lawyer, John was very adept at manipulating his features despite being under excessive scrutiny and controlling the tone in his voice. But despite all his gained knowledge and tricks of the trade, she could still tell when he was, as their daughter would say, full of shit.

"Very much so," she baited him. The triumph that rushed through her was easily squelched when she felt John's fingers withdraw from her heat. Disappointment filled her, thoughts that she may have pushed this game too far, prominent in her mind. Before she could react, those warm large hands encased her waist, and Helen was haphazardly lifted onto the counter with very little effort. "John! What are you doing?"

"A little test," he quipped. He silenced her protests with a long kiss, driving his tongue between her parted lips to rob her of every ounce of reason she had left before ripping his mouth away to inhale a much needed breath. "Now that I have your full attention, shall we begin?"

She was weary of him. The feral glint in his eyes the only proof she needed to ascertain that he had a plan. This did not bode well for her. When her husband set a goal, he accomplished it with such thoroughness and efficiency, it startled many people. He was a strategist at heart, and she would have to be cautious in how she proceeded from now on.

Head slanted, John latched onto her neck with vampiric intensity. His teeth scored over her pulse before suckling on the sensitive flesh. Helen moaned, her body arching at the slight pain she felt as he suckled, breasts pushing against that solid chest of his. He stepped between her thighs and she widened them in response, giving him more room. She went so far as to push herself onto the edge to press her soaked and heated core against his throbbing coming erection.

He tore his mouth away from the sweet taste of her skin and pressed his lips against hers, demanding access to her mouth. She fought him and he was forced to pull back to eye her dangerously. She glared back. He swiftly reached up and pinched her nipple. She yelped at the sensation and John was instantly on her mouth, ravaging every crevice available. His hand squeezed the firm rounded shape of her breast, relishing how easily she fit his palm before sliding down the expanse of her rib cage to grab her hip at the same time his other hand did as well.

With a swipe of his tongue, he pulled Helen closer to his body, grinding his now swollen cock against her throbbing pussy. She practically mewled into his hungry mouth as she felt that thick member of his rub oh so deliciously against her. Arms wound tightly against his neck, hips thrusting faster, needing to create more fiction.

Helen practically roared in frustration when John ripped his mouth away. Her irritation was not subdued when he released her hips and reach behind him to unlock his hold from his neck. No, she was not in the mood for anymore games. Her body was on fire, her center was aching to be touched, and her mind screamed for release. She was not in the mood to be trifled with. She broke the hold of his firm hands, her own moving to grasp the collar of his shirt before ripping it apart with all her might, buttons flying in every direction.

He arched a brow, amusement tickling the edge of his gorgeous sapphire eyes. She certainly had a vivaciousness and aggressiveness that was so utterly attractive. A streak of tearing his clothes apart left many of his fine dress shirts discarded to the bins due to his wife's eagerness, and tonight was no different. He stood in the cool kitchen, strip of chest and abdomen exposed. Before she could deal similar damage to his pants, his hands shot out with lightning speed and caught her wrists one more.

John smirked, knowing full well that he was teasing his wife. But dignity demanded that he pay her back for her earlier comments pertaining to her young lover. He raised his lovely brunette's arms up before gently easing her down onto her back. He silently sent thanks to God for his height. He was now looming over her body, face to face, as she lay, effectively pinned, underneath him.

"Who excites you?" he demanded in a low rumbling tenor. Blue eyes widened a fraction at the sudden implication his words exuded. This was his game! He wanted her to admit that only he excited her! Well she would give him a fight.

"William Zimmerman," she huffed out through clenched teeth. She noticed, with grim satisfaction, that his eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly.

"Ah yes. The _boy_," he reiterated mockingly. Again, that wolfish grin spread over his features and John tightened his large hand around her tiny wrists, locking them firmly in place as his free hand ghosted down the length of her body to poise over that moist center. He growled and took male satisfaction when she barred her teeth at him and hissed in return. He was exerting his dominance over her body and she was fighting him, sure that if her hands were free she would be clawing at his chest at the moment.

With her thoroughly distracted, he plunged two fingers into her wet core. Unprepared for the intrusion, Helen's back arched, lifting her from the table as her walls clamped down on his fingers, pulsing and ready for release.

"Who excites you?" he repeated voice gruff from sexual frustrations.

It took Helen seconds longer to formulate any coherent thought, and even few more seconds to respond in a throaty voice, "William Zimmerman."

John's lips thinned into a very cruel line. His fingers withdrawing in such a tortuously slow pace before being plunged right back into his wife's grasping sheath. Helen's head was thrown back as a primal scream was torn from her throat, nails digging deeply into her husband's hands, she knew they would leave marks.

* * *

><p>The door closed with a click and Abby was still chuckling to herself for a job well done. Although it was cruel to leave her husband in a state such as that, she knew it was necessary to take his mind off whatever it was that possessed him to start posing in front of the mirror. If that wasn't enough to prove that she still desired him than extra measures would be taken on her part to prove it to him. Until then, it was nice to be able to flex her sexual supremacy over him once in a while.<p>

Humming to herself, she made her way to the hamper and found his dress shirt all balled up in there, no surprise, along with his pants. Sighing, she lifted the shirt and tried to smooth out the wrinkles that had collected there before heading back towards the bedroom door. Closing the piece of wood halfway, Abby picked up her husband's suit blazer, the one he had tossed onto the couch downstairs, and hung both the shirt and the pants onto the same hangar before propping it back against the hook.

She would have to drop those off to the dry cleaners tomorrow morning before heading off to her job interview. Which also meant, she could pick up his other suits as well. She re-opened the door and turned towards the closet. If Will had just thrown his pants and shirt in the hamper, most likely he had just aimless and carelessly put his shoes and belt in some random slot. And she was right.

His black leather belt was hanging on top of a weaved cream and green belt he usually wore with jeans. Shaking her head, she unhooked the belt and transferred it three slots down with the rest of his black leather belts. Her husband, despite being brilliant, was at times flaky. He had no sense of order and usually spent his mornings grabbing papers from the bedroom, living room, kitchen, and one awkward time, the bathroom. How one of his notes ended up in the bathroom, she would never know. Never had the courage to ask.

Turning towards the shoe rack, she noticed that Will had just carelessly thrust his shoes into the two available slots – facing the wrong direction. She sighed again as she bent down to rearrange the haphazard mess so both shoes faced the correct direction along with its neighbors. Satisfied with a job well done, she stood up and closed the light to the closet before exiting.

She made her way towards the large dresser on the far side of the room and pulled out the second drawer. She picked out a pale blue pajama bottom that held white stripes as well as the matching top before sliding the wooden material closed. For a moment, she paused. Ears strained, listening. She heard nothing. Now that was odd. Usually around this time of night, their crazy neighbor from across the street would have that weird mellow music playing. Really loudly.

She shook her head and opened the first drawer, pulling out a pair of gray boxers with stethoscopes floating around in odd angles. She turned after using her hip to close the drawer, and made her way towards the bed. She had plans to lay out her husband's clothes for his convenience before making her way down to prepare his meal. On her way past the window, Abby casually glanced out to have a little peek at their neighbor, who was usually found painting in her living room, completely oblivious to the noise that she wreaking havoc with to her neighbors.

What she saw shocked her. The petite blonde woman dropped the outfit she had fished out for her husband and stared, open mouthed and shocked, at the sight that met her eyes. There, unfolding in the conveniently wide uncovered window of her neighbor's kitchen, was her neighbor. Barely clothed and apparently enjoying the amorous advances of a male companion. Vigorously amorous considering his hand was buried between her legs!

[To be continued.]

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** So what do you guys think? Good, bad, so bloody awful you want to claw yours eyes out! Just kidding, hopefully none of you feel that way. Excellent cliffhanger, don't you think?

Poor Abby! Seeing Helen pinned down and…played with by John! Mhmmm.

There should be one more chapter left before this first series is completed. I use 'should' loosely. Again, I am completely winging this, ending at a certain scene and posting before continuing. It's an odd experience, but still pleasantly refreshing!

Please, read and review!

-two finger salute-

Entrenched out.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** I do not own these characters. I just like to let them out for some exercise.

**A/N:** Part 3 of the What the Zimmerman's Saw. I have no idea if this will be the last chapter or if there will be another one after this. Man, do I enjoy winging it! Leaves so much open for thought! So far I have one reply to my question of who should be next and that is a Miss Kate and Mr. Foss introduction. And boy, do I have a surprise and set up for them!

Now for the important squeamish warning to all those people who have sensitive stomachs. Again, I cannot stress this enough, if you are against voyeurism, do NOT read! I am not casting Helen and John to be overtly open people who must flaunt their sexual relationship to everyone. I just think that should they ever get together and considering the degree of…intensity between them on a normal basis, that they would be very passionate couple that would hold little to no qualms of testing out various desires and even go so far as to experiment.

Considering their personalities, it would hardly be that much of a leap. And so, I end this note with a please enjoy this fiction and a smile!

* * *

><p>Clothes were dropped unceremoniously to the floor. The petite blonde shrieking into her hand, which had moved to clasp over her mouth, before she ducked below the writing table situated near the window. She began to hyperventilate, couldn't believe what she just saw. Didn't they know that the shades weren't drawn and the brightly lit kitchen left little to the imagination of what they were doing? Incredible!<p>

"Ohmigod! Ohmigod! Ohmigod!" she breathed erratically, her hand easily muffling her cries of surprise. 'No way, there's just no way!' she thought helplessly. Abby refused to consider that her neighbor was about to have sex in the kitchen of her home with a stranger! No one else had visited her all week and now all of a sudden this tall and bald man was in her home sexing her up!

Abby's rather erratic brain conjured up the most farfetched scenario at lightning speed. 'Maybe she's an escort? The painting is just a charade to make people think she was sort of eccentric woman. Maybe that's the reason she plays music so loud! Oh my God! She has the music loud to hide the fact that she throws sex parties?' Even more ludicrous images began to form in her thoughts, the previous being more farfetched then the following.

Tentatively she began to rise from her position behind the desk. She peered over the edge of the table and looked out the window again. The sight of that tall bald stranger bent over the dark haired female, still stroking her sensually as she arched and writhed beneath his massive frame, had Abby blushing and falling once again onto the floor clutching the top of the table with white knuckles.

One thing was for sure, she was not blind, psychotic, or high - obviously. Her eyes did not fool her into imagining that strong, powerful, damned sexy – she ended her train of thought there. She only had eyes for her husband! But damn! She was not attracted to bald men, but for some reason that particular stranger just oozed sex and danger –no, no! There was no need to go there! Blonde curls flapped around her face as she tried to force her mind to focus rather than let it wander back to the rather erotic sight of a lean body carved like marble with rippling abs just peeking underneath a pale blue shirt. It was like a sensual tease for her eyes, a strip of flesh just showing you exactly what you wanted, but only for a moment. It was pure torment.

Abby sucked in a sharp breath and mentally scolded herself to relax. 'Ok, girlie! You're not in high school anymore, and you sure as hell ain't no virgin! It's just a man and a woman expressing their mutual attraction for each other.' Instantly she forced her mind back to her days at Quantico and her training and experiences in the Behavioral Sciences Department. 'Just a physical process of endorphins and hormones triggered by touch, sight, and smell. It's all just a simple psychological process that leads to…leads to…wild monkey sex on a kitchen counter for the entire world to see?'

A groan passed her lips as her logical reasoning became a tainted image of the long legged brunette on her back exchanging tongues with an equally zealous suitor who had his hands under her shirt. 'Well, that was peachy damned keen!' she thought haphazardly, choking back a small sob. Finally, she managed to pry her fingers from the edge of the desk and took in another soothing breath. She could do this. They were all adults, literally.

This was something she had already seen before and even engaged in with her own husband, for crying out loud. There was no need for her to have her sense of propriety offended. 'Yea right! It's not offended you feel, honey! It's horny!'

"Oh shush, you!" she stated out loud to know one in particular before groaning again. She did _not_ just shush herself after a mental conversation, did she? She did. With a swift face palm and a bout of self derisive chuckles, Abby stood herself up, her back firmly facing the window.

* * *

><p>"Shall we continue this torture, my dear?" John's natural arrogance was overwhelming tonight. That sexy crooked smirk he wore highlighted his sharp features. Being completely bald did not deter from his handsome visage, in fact it highlighted his chiseled face, aristocratic nose, and gorgeous blue eyes. With his tall, powerful frame, and deep penetrating gaze, John was the epitome of masculine virility.<p>

Something dark and dangerous that seemed to be pulled out of a bodice ripper harlequin novel embodied his entire being. His presence was not the only asset that he could use to make the female population swoon and sigh, no. His voice. It was deep and resonating, sexy when he dropped it just a few decibels, and irresistible when he demanded full attention. And despite having been married to this man for almost two decades, Helen was unable to resist those dark charms he employed so well to his advantage.

"Hardly torture, my love," she replied cheekily albeit breathlessly. The red hues that graced her cheeks had John melting. He could never resist the sight of his beloved straining for release, aching for him, and begging for his body to give her exactly what she wanted. The beauty beneath him was a goddess for his eyes to feast upon. Her silken brunette hair fanned around her face like a halo, the thin sheen of perspiration that bloomed over her skin caused some strands from her bangs to cling to her forehead and cheeks.

She looked so delicious; he wanted nothing more than to taste her. Let his tongue glide over her skin and savor that flavor he knew only she could produce. John's eyes roved over her face, taking in those high cheekbones of her angelic face, the plump lips that begged to be tasted, the slender neck that he wanted to nip and soothe, downwards to the heaving chest in which the perfect globes of flesh heaved with each breath that just begged to be removed from their confines and tasted, still over the flat planes of her stomach towards her thighs peeking out of the hem of the maroon dress shirt, and finally taking in the way her legs were raised to grasp his hips, her heels digging into the back of his thighs as she clenched around the fingers that he had buried into her heat.

How was it possible for a woman to be perfect? And even more mind boggling was how this woman could be his! Every night he thanked whatever forces were out there that had shaped the meeting between them. He pulled back, her hands still clasped tightly, yet gently, within his single one as he eased his fingers out of her slick passage. A sharp gasp of shock followed with a whimper of disappointment floated to his ears.

"Is that so? Perhaps I should redouble my efforts," he teased in that soft tenor. His breath bouncing along her cheek as those slickened fingers brushed along her clitoris. Amusement tinged with desire flickered across his eyes as he watched Helen arch her back sensually, moaning his name with such wanton desire he nearly gave in to his primal desire to just mount her and ride her into oblivion. 'In due time, Johnny. Patience, patience,' he consoled himself mentally.

"Oh! Yes! Please!" she mewled for her lover. He was effectively driving her closer and closer to that edge and just before she could peak with release, he stopped teasing her entirely, drawing his fingers away from that pulsing nub and forcing her body to come down from that enthralling high. Breaths short and broken, Helen's eyes snapped open and she gave him an annoyed look mixed with her patented glare.

"Please what?" he chortled mockingly, finding her glare to be absolutely adorable. He pointedly ignored the fact that she had not called out his name.

"You know 'what'," came her caustic reply.

"As amazing as you have claimed me to be, on several occasions I might add," his wolfish grin returned followed by a boyish wink, "I have not quite mastered the art of reading minds."

"How very lucky for you. You are saved from the graphic images of what I want to do to your body at this very moment," she retorted with a menacing hiss as images of torturing the man hovering above her flashed in her mind.

"Oh, my! What a naughty, naughty girl you are Ms. Helen Druitt."

The slender brunette merely rolled her eyes, biting back the acerbic remark that ached to be spoken aloud at the tip of her tongue. She knew her husband would most likely pervert any comment she made anyhow. Not one to be 'one-upped', Helen locked her sapphire eyes with John's own, making sure that his focus was riveted on her and her alone before twisting underneath him.

A look of mild confusion crossed his face as her hips moved, swaying side to side in a slow and sensual pace. The movement effectively rubbed her pelvis against his, causing a delicious friction between both their bodies. She could feel her lover's cock twitch in response to the grinding, could feel that thick swelling press that much closer against her pulsing center, could see how his eyes darkened with desire as he watched her writhe in an erotic dance. John had always enjoyed watching Helen pleasure herself. Especially when she pleasured herself with thoughts of him, the sight was sultry, and the affect it had on him - devastating.

His hips unconsciously rocked against her, thrusting to increase the pressure. A deep moan fell from his lips as he rotated his hips in the opposite direction. Helen smirked at the look of utter pleasure on his face. His mouth had slackened open, eyes clouded in a haze of burning need for her. Sometimes it was just too easy to lure this man into her trap, toying with him through her body was a game she enjoyed immensely. Twisting a grinding her hips a few more moments and she knew that she had his attention.

Gathering all her years of experience, Helen closed her eyes, back arching, and with her hands being held down firmly by his own much larger one, she looked like a concubine surrendering herself in a timeless fashion to her sultan. This pose allowed her breasts to jut out, causing the flaring ends of the dress shirt to open revealing a strip line of taut stomach and exposed her black lacy thong. When she spoke, her voice was husky with unadulterated need, almost to the point of begging, "Will, please. Will. Take me."

She glanced at him from under her lashes; saw that euphoric haze of his harden into annoyance when his mind finally registered the name that slipped so heatedly from her lips. Had she not been so busy in trying to portray a look of mindless ecstasy she would have laughed at the incredulous look upon his features. That annoyance changed into a look anger.

'So that's how the little minx wants to play,' he thought carelessly, 'then en garde, madame.'

He released her hands from captivity and moved to grip her waist, with her back arched in that perfect bow, John was able to lift and easily maneuver Helen farther up along the counter. Before she could react to his swift motions or utter a cry of protest, a smooth bald head slipped between her thighs as tongue was thrust into the dripping core at the apex. John's tongue pushed the material of her lace panties into her heated depths, wanting his lovely little lady to feel the difference in texture of the rough fabric of her thong against her sensitive walls.

A cry of pleasure was torn from her throat, her arms, which had been abandoned earlier, remained useless above her body. Her hands, however, were much closer to the edge of the counter and gripped the corners until her knuckles were an alarmingly white shade. Satisfied that she was finally getting the message, John roughly ran his teeth along her fabric covered pussy, eliciting another cry from his lover. Deftly, his tongue withdrew before pushing the tiny scrap of fabric she called her underwear to one side and delving back into her honeyed warmth.

John's eyes practically rolled to the back of his head as the taste of his wife's juices soaked his tongue. Her taste was utterly unique. She smelled of lavender and heather and yet tasted like sweet nectar. He savored his wife's essence with a swipe of his tongue, dragging that muscle along the sides of her walls, filling her completely with tongue and cloth. He darted the tip in and out of her pussy, occasionally withdrawing to tickle her clitoris before slipping back inside her once more.

He growled in satisfaction when she bucked against his mouth, telling him that she was already close to the edge. His arms moved underneath her thighs, gripping her firm ass, and lifting her even closer to his mouth. He wanted nothing more than to devour her.

* * *

><p>"You can handle this, Abby. It's not like you and Will are saints!" she informed herself. She shook her hands and bounced in place as she reinforced her mind. "Besides they're just kissing...," she paused in herself rant and breathed once more, "ok maybe he's doing more than kissing her, but it's not like they're having sex! C'mon girl!"<p>

With one final breath and bounce, Abby turned on her heel moved to pick up the discarded clothing on the floor only to come face to face with Mr. Tall Dark Handsome and Bald with his smooth head buried between Ms. McPaints Alot's thighs.

"OH MY FUCKI-," the young woman slapped her hand over her mouth and dropped down to a crouch once again, before darting her eyes over to the bathroom. Relief swept through her when she was assured that her husband, who was currently singing "My Girl" by the Temptations rather loudly, did not hear over the sound of the shower and his own slightly off-beat voice. She could imagine him doing the dance moves while singing into his loofah. He could be so obliviously adorable at times!

'There's just no way! No way they could possibly be doing _that_. Right in the middle of the kitchen!' she thought. No matter how hard she tried she could not get rid of the image of smooth alabaster like skin against a slightly tanned one. Nor could she remove the look of complete and total ecstasy on her neighbor's face as her lover's tongue brought her pleasure. And from the looks of it, he had one hell of a talented tongue. Abby weighed her options. She could just draw the curtain, walk away, and head downstairs and finish preparing her husband's late dinner. She could also find a pebble and throw it at the kitchen window and pray that they hear it, come to their senses, and take the little show upstairs – or at least someplace more discreet than the freaking kitchen!

'Or, you could just crouch here and take a little sneaky peak at them,' she was shocked at that alternative. 'I will _not_ do that!' she mentally chastised herself. 'Yeah, you keep telling yourself that as many times as you want honey, it doesn't change the fact that you want to!'

"Oh fine!" she huffed, no longer caring that she was having a conversation with herself. Abby cautiously lifted her body, her golden head peeking over the edge of the windowsill before her eyes were finally able to see the couple in the kitchen. The position only changed slightly. The last she saw, Mr. Tall Dark Handsome and Bald was bent over with his face buried in Ms. McPaints Alot's legs. Well he was still eating her out, ferociously, Abby mentally added, but rather than her being reclined on the countertop on her back, he had thrown her legs over his shoulder and was standing at full height. This left the dark haired woman with only her head and part of her shoulders and back on the counter, the rest was pressed against the taller man's frame as he easily handled her weight.

Abby tilted her head to the side, absorbing the position. "Wouldn't that be uncomfortable for her?" she asked no one in particular. 'Well, she doesn't seem to mind!' came the mental reply. And her mind was correct in that assumption. The older brunette's face was contorted in pleasure and her hands were clutching the edges of the countertop as her body writhed and undulated in an erotic dance.

Abby could not help but admire the older woman's body. She had to admit, her neighbor aged well. Scratch that, it had nothing to do with aging well at all, the woman was just hot. From their current position, the young blonde could easily see the long pair of slender, toned legs wrapped around the male's face. The skin looked smooth and stretched over taut muscle.

There was no blemish that could be seen on her fair skin as Abby's observation travelled lower to take in the painter's hips. They were full and curved so perfectly that it was hard to miss the obvious hourglass shape the woman had. With the dress shirt still buttoned, she was only able to catch a small glimpse of her stomach, but from what she did catch, it was still firm and taut. Her breasts were also covered. However, the glimpses of flesh proved that the woman had ample cleavage to share.

Her neighbor could be defined as a classic beauty. Her features were sharp, but not angular. There was a soft tinge to her face, highlighting her high cheekbones and perfectly shaped brows. Indeed, a classic beauty. Abby shook her head, closed her eyes, and pressed her forehead against the cold window. 'I am not seriously eyeing my neighbor right now? Oh. My. God. I. Am. Well at least I have taste.'

* * *

><p>'Oh my, he's in quite the mood,' was Helen's last rational thought before she was practically lifted off the counter, legs thrown over broad shoulders, and his mouth and tongue completely enveloped her through her panties again. His tongue flicked and stroked her through the sopping, delicate material in an erotic torment. She reached up towards her waist, intending to slip the panties off, but his strong hands grasped her wrists and secured them against the counter. Her head rolled back and her eyes closed as he suckled at the very core of her desire through the fabric. His tongue, lashing with sure strokes, made the fire in the pit of her stomach burn hotter with each swipe. The exquisite torment was driving her to near insanity heightening the urgency of her need.<p>

In the instant before she peaked, he stopped until her body had calmed. He was teasing her once again, taking her body and stretching that rope until the tension became unbearable before slackening. Then his mouth and tongue resumed the teasing rhythm, stopping again as she neared the edge. "Please," she whispered heatedly, teeth biting down on lower lips, "oh God, I'm so close…oh…please," she pleaded mindlessly for that release.

Every muscle in her body strained, reaching for the pinnacle that he kept just beyond her grasp. With the skill of a maestro, his manipulations at her core had her pulsing uncontrollably. She began protesting when the sensation suddenly stopped only to realize that he was using his teeth and tongue to push her underwear off to the side. With her body stretched across his as it was, her hands were able to drift down the masculine slope of his shoulders to linger on the bulging biceps of his upper arms then journey back up to his shoulders. She loved the feel of his muscles, tense in keeping her in position as he feasted on her. Her hands continued to slide down the muscular wall of his chest. The taut muscles of his abdomen contracted beneath her fingertips as her hands trailed down past the waistband of his trousers to find and caress the evidence of his desire for her. Even through the fabric of his trousers, his body's arousal throbbed under her touch.

"Oh God, you're so hard I can feel you." His only response to her claim was the widening of his mouth only to plunge his tongue into her core, his attack unobstructed by the scrappy piece of fabric she called underwear. He could taste her fully now, feels her slick wet juices slide onto his tongue as her sweet ambrosia filled his nostrils. He suckled at her pussy once before retreating to attack her clit with furious swipes of that talented tongue followed by nibbles from those perfect white teeth.

Deftly opening his trousers, Helen wrapped her hand around the firm length of his cock. His body leapt at her touch, slightly startled from his current task at the feel of that soft, warm hand wrapping around his thick shaft. A low groan escaped him as she took up a familiar rhythm savoring the contrast in textures of rock-solid hardness covered by soft, velvety skin. The little minx was going to be the death of him. He inhaled deeply, urging his body to calm down lest they end this prematurely.

Once he was back in control again, John resumed his attack on her plump juicy center. He needed to make her surrender to pleasure quickly he did not know how long he could hold on with her hand expertly pumping his turgid cock. Reaching down, he took hold of her wrist and slowly eased her hand down onto the counter. His command was subtle, but it was there. That same warm palm released her hand and glided over her fluttering stomach, caressed her hips and waist, before settling against her inner thigh. John's grip tightened around the trembling flesh, widening her legs to give him better access and attacking the heated core beneath his lips.

Tongue, teeth, and lips worked quickly to bring Helen back to that peak, but this time, he did not stop or slow down. Teeth clamped tightly around her throbbing clit and tongue lavished the sensitive bud with firm, fast strokes. He released her slick flesh and delved that tongue back into her dripping mound, lashing against her walls and filling her completely. Helen was mindless with pleasure, head thrashing from left to right, tangling and matting her hair against her sweat slickened face. Head snapped backwards, back arching into a perfect bow, when his fingers joined the symphony of pleasure. He pressed, rubbed, and pinched her delightful little nub and she shattered.

"Oh God! John! Oh my God! Yes! Yes! Yes!" she panted helplessly as her body quaked with in earth shattering release. A flood of juices met his tongue and John greedily suckled every drop of her essence, his thumb furiously rubbing her clit, purposefully extending her orgasm. One final swipe and he withdrew from her, gently easing her worn body down until she was splayed before him like a pagan goddess. The sight of her blew away all rational thought. His wife's impish blue eyes were concealed, her chest heaving and offering a teasing glimpse of her lace covered cleavage with each breath, and a rose like hue bloomed upon her skin. She looked sinfully delectable and his desire reached unbearable heights just at the sight of her.

Giving her no time for respite, John leaned over her, his throbbing cock pressing against her molten center as he whispered, "say it again." It was a demand and even Helen could hear that despite the euphoric haze she was in. She knew what he wanted to hear, it was the reason for this sudden show of this masculine bravado.

"John…," she cooed sinfully, her voice so low and husky that John was forced to gulp.

"Again," he commanded.

"John," she moaned his name, fingers cupping his cheek and tugging him down until their lips were only hair 's breadth apart, "take me, John. I need you inside me now…please…"

Groaning, he captured both of Helen's tiny wrists in one of his large hands to draw them up above her head while stretching himself out full-length to cover her body with his own. He wasted no time with preludes, his knees urging her supple thighs farther apart and impaling her with a single, powerful thrust. She bucked beneath him, her body still sensitive from her earlier orgasm and already she was at the cusp of her second just from his mere size. The feeling of being so stretched and so complete took her breath away.

The cadence he set was a furious rhythm filled with intense hunger, his body taking total possession of hers. The slick depths of her body were tight and scalding hot. His cock was being gripped with each thrust. Her pulsing walls were frantically clenching around him. Soon after his first few thrusts, her body shuddered violently around him with her second release, albeit smaller than the first. John released all semblance of control. He could not stop and so continued thrusting into her harder and faster. Fiercely, he pounded into her, trying to drive himself deeper inside her with each stroke.

* * *

><p>Taking a deep breath, Abby stepped back from the window, and opened her eyes once again and widened to the size of saucers. Act two had started while she was calming herself down. Watching in awe at the ferocity in which the bald man was taking the brunette, the young blonde woman's hand reached up to press against her throat in complete shock. They were so…feral. There was no other word. She could see from the way the couple writhed, thrust, and arched against each other that there was an underlying primal passion.<p>

Unconsciously, her body moved closer to the window. Palms pressing flat against the surface, mouth open wide and eyes remaining glued to the rocking bodies like they were some pop culture theatrical show. She was lost in their torrent of passion, no will to turn her head away. Entranced by the sight before her, Abby could do nothing but watch.

* * *

><p>Her hips rocked under him, every forceful thrust – taken in stride, and still welcoming more. His mouth latched onto the smooth, creamy skin on the side of her neck with vampiric intensity. He felt her buck strongly beneath him screaming his name over and over again. He suckled on the flesh, relishing the taste of her skin before unlatching from the sensitive flesh. John raised his head and locked his gaze on Helen.<p>

As if their movements were a crafted dance, eyelids fluttering open and gaze locked with his and she found herself held captive by the fierce, unbridled carnal lust emanating from those hawk like sapphire eyes. A rough growl that vibrated from the back of his throat was her only warning before he increased his pace, driving into her with rapid-fire thrusts. Once again, that familiar ache built steadily with each stroke of his body into hers. She could feel every throbbing vein and ridge of his hard cock pounding into the tight heat of her pussy. His body claimed her over and over, the forceful thrusts sending torrents of intense pleasure shooting through her until at last it reached a fulminating crescendo. A primal scream ripped from her throat, head thrown back, neck exposed, as her entire body trembled and quaked with an overpowering orgasm that came in wave after wave of pleasure crashing over her.

He thrust into her twice more before holding himself while he convulsed. A roar of triumphant conquest tore from deep within his chest and merged with her cry of passion. His release was explosive and soon his breathing became labored from the physical exertion.

* * *

><p>"God damn," Abby muttered softly. She watched them both reach culmination, the stranger sagging atop her neighbor as both remained immobile from their recent physical exertion. A breath she did not know she was holding was released and eyes fluttered momentarily as the man kissed the brunette's cheek with such tenderness that an, "awww," escaped past her lips. Finally realizing that she had just watched her neighbor's have raw, unadulterated, passionate, wild sex, and was thoroughly flushed and embarrassingly turned on, she pushed away from the window and picked up the clothes that had fallen onto the floor once again. Slightly frantic at witnessing such an act, Abby carelessly tossed them onto the bed.<p>

Then she practically tore out of the bedroom with a speed that would have made her husband's eyebrows shoot up. With everything she had just seen, all she wanted to do was jump him in the shower and have her way with him against the tiled wall! No! Not the time for that! She had to fix Will's dinner and stop her racing heart and furiously imaginative mind.

_[To be continued.]_

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Now that Abby has had the shock of her life, time to traumatize our friendly doctor! I'm sure he'll enjoy it too! Please read and review! I love reviews! But if you have to flame me…well…ok. I enjoy criticisms…ok maybe not as much as optimistic reviews.

-two finger salute-

Entrenched out.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of these characters, just the story itself.

**A/N:** I apologize for the really late load up. My laptop adapter died on me and I had to wait forever to get the new one delivered. Darn rain here has really killed the fedex crew. Still waiting for the charger so I hijacked my sister's (we luckily have the same laptop – yay!)

Thank you for all the reviews! I love reading them, keeps me motivated to keep writing. And I agree, bad Abby! Watching your neighbors go at it! And thank you, personally to: **ZaraShade** – I am glad that I got Abby down! Whoot! I was so scared for that one. **Adria626** – your enthusiasm for my story makes me feel awesome! Thanks to everyone who reviewed!

Now here we are time for Will Zimmerman to see the show our lovely couple has to offer! Mwauahahahaha! Hahahahahaha! -end evil laugh-

Eh…enjoy!

* * *

><p>Releasing Helen's hands, John braced his own beside her shoulders and rose up to hover above the dark beauty. His eyes traveled down the length of his wife's body seductively sprawled beneath his. Her cheeks were flushed with a deep crimson, her mouth slightly parted and her breaths coming in short, sharp gasps. She looked magnificently beautiful. An insufferably arrogant grin overtook his handsome features as he leaned over and nuzzled her neck, lips and tongue traveling across the smooth expanse of flesh, tasting the salty layer that bloomed at the hollow of her throat.<p>

Helen's body finally stopped trembling, her breathing evening out and her heart rate slowing down to mere thumps. When she felt that rough tongue run along her neck, gorgeous blue eyes opened to reveal her lover eagerly lapping at the sweat slickened skin where her neck met her shoulder. From all the screaming she had engaged in earlier, her voice was hoarse and raw. With no energy left, she allowed him his explorations for the moment. John suddenly shifted, hips moving to rearrange the angle of his head to grant himself better access to her neck. This action caused a bolt of electricity to shoot from her already sensitive center throughout her entire body.

Her sudden tremble and sharp intake of breath broke her lover's attention and he shot up from his itinerary along her jaw line to look down at her still splayed form. The concern was evident on his face, causing Helen's heart to clench. Slowly, she lifted her slender hands and traced his cheek and jaw, reassuring him that she was quite fine.

"Are you sure, darling?" he questioned, despite her physical reassurances.

"Perfectly," she quipped, index finger running along his bottom lip, "just a little sensitive to movement. You are intimately familiar with how my body reacts after a very intense orgasm."

"Mhm, indeed," he concurred with a lascivious grin. She playfully swatted his shoulder before raising her arms upwards, back arching in that supple manner, and stretching, trying to remove all the kinks their recent coupling had wrought upon her body. This caused a spark to run through both of them, eliciting a strangled groan from her hovering counterpart. With thoughts of torturing him further, Helen purposefully clenched her inner muscles.

"Helen!" John gasped, hips moving purely on instinct and gently thrust into the tight confines of her body. "I do not think I am capable of the same vigor I had in our youth, darling," he scolded breathlessly.

Helen snorted at that comment, "you say that, my love. However," she clenched again, and already John's cock was beginning to harden within her, "your body seems to be telling me otherwise."

"Helen…," he pleaded, hands bracing themselves on her hips in a futile attempt to stop this little vixen's actions, "…please…"

"Please what, my love," she cooed mockingly at him, throwing his words from earlier back at him. This earned her an exasperated look, but she merely flashed that seductive smile and fluttered those long lashes at him. Shaking his head in defeat, John leaned over and planted a kiss to her perfectly lush lips.

"I am going to pull out now, love," he whispered softly against her mouth. A curt nod was given by Helen as she prepared her body for his withdrawal. Sliding out as gently as he could, a muffled cry of pleasure still slipped past her lips. Her body was always sensitive after an orgasm, but when John strived to give her 'la petit morte', she found that her body took twice as long to come down from that delicious high. Nails dug into the flesh of his shoulders as her body quivered, John's cool lips brushed along her temple, giving her soothing little kisses to placate her raging endorphins. Those lips were soft and pleasant against her skin, a wonderful distraction as they feathered across various parts of her face. When the trembling stopped, she found herself already missing him. The thick heaviness of his endowment, even at a lax stage, was always a comfort and now that empty feeling besieged her senses with a ferocity that always made her heart race and body ache to pull him flush against her and relish in the warmth only he could cocoon her in. "Better?" he questioned when he noticed that her body had calmed down once more.

"Profoundly," she sighed, fully sated, arms encircling around his neck loosely. Nose nuzzling his throat, Helen released a contented sigh. She would not call her life perfect, but it was damned close. Her husband was compassionate to her needs, supportive of her dreams, never belittled her thoughts and desires, in fact he extolled her independence, and he loved her with such blinding devotion. 'Close enough to perfect,' she thought whimsically.

A gurgle from her stomach broke the post coital bliss. She grimaced at the harsh sound and found her husband's shoulders shaking in silent mirth. Even he would not dare to laugh so openly at that rather embarrassing sound.

"I believe, Mr. Druitt, that you are the sole cause of my current condition. Perforce, you must be one to give me succor," she stated in that clipped tone she reserved for her agent. Chuckling at her talented display of vocabulary, Oxford teachings were hard to banish despite having lived away from the Queen for over a decade, John captured her lips in an impassioned kiss before pulling away.

"It would be my pleasure," he bantered back suavely, voice dropping to that sensual baritone, sending shivers of pleasure to lance along her spine. Truly, her husband was far too talented in melting all her reservations away. He stood then. With her arms wrapped around his neck as it was, she was forced into a sitting position on the counter. He easily lifted her off the granite top and placed her gently on the floor with ease. She must weigh absolutely nothing to him.

'Well, that should be flattering to my ego then,' she mentally concluded with a silent laugh.

"We were making pizza, were we not?"

"Yes, indeed we were," she replied. Turning on those barefoot heels of her, she nudged him with an elbow, "Italian style with our own twist. The dough should have properly set by now in the fridge," she arched a delicate brow as an impish smile curved her full, lush lips, "you can start by pounding that until it is soft and pliant, something you should be quite adept in accomplishing." He merely shook his head in response, knowing better than to engage the little imp in a verbal spar, especially when all his blood was no longer flowing towards his brain. "Oh and John…," bald head lifted at her dangling statement to raise a questioning brow. That mischievous little smirk of hers returned as she coyly angled her head to the side as if in deep thought before letting her eyes travel down his body to look pointedly at his groin. "You might want to consider tucking yourself in."

* * *

><p>Will turned off the shower, feeling that last bits of water plop onto his soaked head. He slid open the shower door and grabbed the fluffy white towel that hung on the rack next to the shower stall. Drying his hair, the young cardiologist stepped out onto the plush thick rug, relishing the steam that had gathered in the large bathroom. That was one of the things he loved about this bathroom, it trapped all that warmth, making the room bearable to stand in when drying off.<p>

In medical school, the first year communion bathrooms were disasters. The plumbing was beyond horrendous, every time someone flushed, hot water would flood every stall. And you had those types of people who never hollered the customary warning. There was never and privacy, med students walked in and out and thus one had to dry in the stalls with only a curtain for cover, and even then people would still barge into the stalls in their haste to find an empty one to bathe in or end up helplessly late for class. Even worse, the toilets and urinals were in the same room. When some freshman had the chili dog the night before, everybody suffered the next morning. Indecent exposure was not a rooted term when living in dorm.

Relief came in after he had graduated, irony was a cruel fate. Apparently, the communion bathrooms were fixed. The toilets were moved to a separate room and in the process of doing so the plumbing had to be altered. No longer did the bathroom flush roll call have to be used, and no longer did student have to worry about inhaling the fumes of some hapless freshman who swallowed the nightly dinner specials.

His two year residency was not any better than his first few years in med school. He had a private bathroom, well private considering that his roommate had a connected door to the same bathroom, but the ventilation system was, in plain terms, crap. No matter how hot the water ran, all that warm air would escape leaving Will to freeze every winter as soon as the water was turned off. To make matters worse, there were times he forgot to lock his neighbor's bathroom door. More than once, Will's neighbor had walked in on him. No matter how many times they had seen each other naked, it was _always_ awkward.

Before he met Abby, he was living in an apartment in the city. Now that was a big mistake. He would have traded his time at the residency crap bathroom then go back living at that apartment. He didn't have to share his bathroom, oh no, but the plumbing in his complex was older than Jesus. The pipes froze every winter and when it wasn't frozen, you couldn't get hot water even if you sacrificed all the lambs in the world. And when the stifling city heat could no longer be tolerated, all you could get was lukewarm water at worst and room temperature water at best.

Will shook his head at the lengths he had to go just to survive in that old apartment. He remembered the months he would boil water and fill a bucket with it, just to take a hot shower after spending his whole entire day in the ER before taking the train back to his area and walking the remainder of the way home. Those nights he would drag himself up the stairs on stiff legs and chattering teeth before gathering the energy to make his hot bath.

When he wasn't boiling water, he would be filling that big bucket up with ice. Hot, sweaty, summer days were usually filled with the anxiety of being on call, running between hospitals, and filling his bucket with ice and water before taking a cooling shower. Those were definitely some fond memories he had. Nope, he definitely did not miss those years at all. Inhaling deeply, he finished drying off his body, rubbing the fluffy tower along every inch of his skin before wrapping it around his waist and making his way to the vanity.

Swiping the fog away from the mirror, Will looked at himself with deep concentration. Falling back on years of nightly routines, he began his preparations as his thoughts began to wander back to his wife. He winced at the memory of her walking in on him flexing in front of the mirror, stark naked no less. It was embarrassing. Even more so when he knew that her psychological training would kick in and the last thing he needed was his wife to sit him down and talk about how natural it was for him to emphasize his exterior looks as he aged. It was not a conversation he really wanted to hear.

Will was self-confident. He had nothing to fear. Looking himself once again in the mirror, he pointed to his image.

"You're young, successful, good-looking, and have the most beautiful wife on the planet! She loves you. You've got everything, buddy." It was true, he did. He lived in a large house with a wife who was his equal in every way, who also put up with his many quirks. He now had a set network and reputation with several hospitals and a new technique being made under his name. He now drove his dream car - a BMW 7 series and was growing in name in many prestigious professional circles.

Life really was good.

* * *

><p>Helen grabbed a steel colander from one of the lower pantry and dropped the orange, red, and yellow bell peppers into it. With a regal toss of her hair, she turned to look over her shoulder at John. He had taken out the dough from the fridge. She had prepared it earlier in the afternoon before settling for her nap. She had not expected him to be home until next week, this little surprise of his was more than welcome on her end, considering the end result from their earlier…endeavors.<p>

She could not help but admire her husband. His profile emphasized the long, strong line of his jaw. The classical lines of his face, despite being bald, he still had quite a strikingly handsome countenance. She watched as he moved with such fluid efficiency, every twitch and turn of his body was emphasized with such a masculinity she never thought was even possible. How was it that he could make taking flour out of the canister and spreading it over the wooden cutting board so sexy?

Silken brown waves bouncing from a firm shake, she turned back to her own task and stopped ogling her husband like he was some prized meat. 'Well considering his…assets…that would not be too far of a leap,' she thought with a wolfish leer of her own. Washing the vegetables and cutting them up should have been enough of a preoccupation, however, it seemed even John could distract her from such a mundane task.

Little did she know that she too was being watched by rather eager eyes. John spread some flower onto his hands to prevent the dough from sticking to his long fingers. All the while, he kept glancing appreciatively at his wife. Dressed as she was, he could not help his wandering attention. Helen was unadulterated sensuality and primal sexuality, all rolled into one delectable package. With her wearing only his dress shirt, he had a very good view of her long slender legs. Creamy silken skin that he knew tasted divine taunted him as she turned towards the kitchen sink.

Grumbling, he chastised himself. He wasn't some randy teenager that got stiff at every pretty thing that crossed his path. But then again, Helen Druitt was not just a pretty thing, she was _the_ pretty thing. Slapping the dough onto the board, he sprinkled some more flour onto the top, turned it and repeated the process over again. Satisfied at the powdered layer, he began to knead the soft mass, his knuckles digging into the pliant blob before folding it onto itself and repeating the process.

Concentrating, John split the dough in half and began to pound the first ball flat. He knew some people preferred to roll out the dough with a pin, but he enjoyed the free form version of flattening out the dough. Besides, it was good exercise on his end. Helen's musical voice sliced through the sound of fist hitting floury flesh, "pounding it hard, love?"

John looked up from his efforts to see his wife's blue eyes twinkling mischievously as she watched him from over her shoulder. Her dark chocolate hair fell in waves down her back in that rough and tumble look, framing her face perfectly in their soft waves. He had to stifle the gasp of pleasure that would have escaped his lips.

'Randy teen, indeed,' his mind taunted him. How was it possible for a woman to make such a simple act as grinning over her shoulder look so stunningly sexy? John Druitt was, as always around his wife, floored.

Taking a moment longer to gather his wits about him, John offered Helen one of his devilish grins before retorting, "very, my dear. Would you like a demonstration?" A deep, rich laughter burst from his belly at the sudden deep crimson flush that graced her cheeks in response to his question. Fascinated, he watched as the flush crept down her neck and disappear into the plunging neckline of the maroon dress shirt. Sapphire eyes danced with amusement as he watched his wife turn back to her task at hand after muttering what sounded like 'bloody pervert'.

Still chortling at his silent win, John finished the pizza dough by folding the edges into a thin crust like layer and covering that with a thin plastic strip. Satisfied at his work, he made his way towards the sink and pressed his body against the back of his wife's soft curves. The warmth from her backside quickly heated his bare torso, forcing the chill of the kitchen to recede from his skin. Deftly tucking his head into her neck, John inhaled that heady scent of his wife's skin, tongue darting out to have a small taste of the soft flesh before planting a firm kiss at her pulse.

"John…," she moaned in response, head angling away from his to allow him better access to her sensitive skin.

"Mhmm, yes?"

"What are you doing?"

"Just washing my hands."

To prove his point, flour covered hands darted underneath the running warm water. Helen's half-lidded eyes stared, transfixed by the sight of the white powder falling from those large hands and pooling down into the drain in a swirl of murky water. The sight of long, lean fingers rubbing against each other was captivating and brought forth such a sharp arousal, she could feel the throb ache between her legs. That was one of the many things Helen loved about her husband – his hands. He utilized them so well when emphasizing points while speaking, they were so expressive and gentle despite the inherent force she knew he was capable of exerting. Each movement was confident and sure, exuding that strength that embodied her sexy husband. Damn, he was good.

The feel of soft lips pressing into her neck broke the hypnotic reverie Helen was in, shocking her back into the present with a sharp intake of breath. Nose nuzzling into the tender flesh once again, John smirked when he felt his wife's slender feminine hands join his own beneath the running water. He moaned appreciatively when she began to massage his fingers and palm.

"There we go," she stated succinctly, "all clean." Releasing his large palms, Helen leaned over the counter, breaking his kiss from her neck, and grabbed a tea towel to dry her hands with. After finishing, she handed the towel to her husband, noting the irate look upon his countenance. She could not help the smirk that curved across her lips at his adorable half pout. Grabbing the colander, she shook the remaining water from the pile of vegetables before dropping it into the other sink.

John remained against her, pressing that swelling erection of his into the small of her back. She, for the most part, studiously ignored the throbbing member radiating heat against her skin and gathered a knife and a cutting board, which she lined just above the sink they stood in front of. Grabbing the orange bell pepper, Helen began slicing off the top before a large hand settled atop her smaller ones. Smiling, but only to herself, she let John lead the next slice, efficiently taking off the bottom.

"Let me help you, dear," he murmured reverently against her cheek, his chin settling against her shoulder.

"Your lack of trust in my ability to slice peppers is very insulting, Mr. Druitt," she scoffed teasingly.

"Not at all. My lack of talent in this department has forced me to conclude and capitulate into the necessity of watching a professional, such as you, in action. Purely for educational benefits on my part," he bantered back in the sinful baritone, "and what better way to learn than to throw oneself into the crux of a convenient situation."

"Yes, what better way indeed."

And so that two began slicing through the bell pepper. Hands moved with fluid ease across the bright skin. Neither were hindered by their partner, knife poised in perfect in both hands, fingers of the other sliding down smooth skin to avoid the sharpened edge. John retreated, allowing Helen to lead each stroke. His trust in her was complete, knowing she would never lead them astray, he began to press kisses along her jaw line. He relished the shuddering breath she released, the pause in her hand movements a tell-tale sign of her succumbing to his seductions. Through years of experience, he learned that his wife was sensitive to light touches. His use of teasing brushes along her skin, especially her neck, would bring Helen's arousal to incredible heights in comparison to an aggressive physical touch.

Warm breaths puffed against her cheek, as he laid open mouth kisses along her cheekbones towards her ear. Teeth latching on to that tender lobe and began tugging gently. She moaned; hand dropping the knife as fingers gripped onto the edge of the sink. He was easily wreaking havoc to her senses. Her arousal, one she had thought they had doused quite effectively considering what occurred earlier on the granite island, was returning with a vengeance. Tongue darted out to trace the shell of her ear, needling into the intricate dips and curves. A moan slipped from her lips as his teeth returned to gently gnawing at her lobe.

"John…stop…," she pleaded, although her attempt was half-hearted at best.

He gave pause, as if rolling the idea in his thoughts. "Do you truly wish me to, darling?"

Helen could hear the smug taunt in his tone. With determination blazing in her eyes, she pivoted and faced him hand boldly sliding down to cup his stiff manhood. Dexterous fingers slid over that swollen erection, tracing the heavy outline through the fabric of his slacks.

"Dear God! Helen!" he hissed, mouth open wide and head thrown back in pleasure as she continued to rub his hard-on with sure solid strokes. This woman knew how to distract him and drive him to the edge of insanity. Her hand moved with such confidence, knowing the rhythm of his body. Now, it was his turn to grip the sink edge, his head dropping forward to rest against hers as his breathing turned to short, sharp gasps.

"Do you want me to stop?" she baited him flirtatiously in that lilting musical voice. His only response was a deep guttural growl. "Shall I take that as a no?" She had the upper hand now, and he knew it.

John's eyes were tightly shut, hiding those intoxicating sapphire eyes of his. Taking the advantage, Helen ran her free hand along the rippling pectorals of his chest, downwards over his hard abs, before gliding back up to his shoulder. She could feel those muscles tighten underneath her fingertips, feel the warmth of his exposed chest, and the solid strength that was purely John.

With a graceful bend, she was on her knees. Nuzzling the edge of his straining trapped cock, her hands drifted down his firm skin and past the waistband of his trousers. Running her hands over his strong thighs, Helen once again found and caressed the evidence of his desire for her. Even through the fabric of his trousers, she could feel his body's hard arousal throbbing under her touch. "Oh Johnny, you're really hard. Did I do this to you?"

He felt his body tighten in response and cleared his throat, a futile attempt since all speech had left him seconds ago and her current actions were not helping his brain in formulating any suitable coherent verbal response. She wasted no time in ripping her husband's dark pants open with her pearly, white teeth and moved her hands around to cup his hips, holding him steady. Helen closed her eyes and licked her lip in anticipation of the taste of his skin, inhaling softly and enjoying the familiar musky scent of her husband. She briefly nuzzled the juncture of his thighs before placing small love bites along the tender skin of his inner thighs causing his eyes to fly open, giving her a semi-glare.

John's fingers gripped the edge of the sink tighter, knuckles turning to an alarmingly white color as he resisted the urge to tangle his fingers in her hair and pull her closer. Besides, he was sure his wife would not have easily given him control, which at the moment, was perfectly fine for him. A hiss of pleasure escaped through clenched teeth as he felt the soft fabric of his boxer briefs slide over his rigid staff, freeing him completely. His last coherent thought as he closed his eyes and groaned was that dinner was going to be made much, much later.

Helen heard and felt his immediate response and smiled against his taut skin. Lips were planting small kisses along his pubic bone before she retreated backwards to see him fully. 'God, he's magnificent!' she thought, eyeing the thick column of flesh in front of her appreciatively. She enjoyed giving this pleasure to her husband, and it was act that he rarely asked for despite the fact that he enjoyed it thoroughly.

Her hand rested along the base of his cock, fingers wrapping around the girth and began stroking him with smooth, gentle motions. Positioning her head, Helen opened her mouth and enveloped the length of him, humming in satisfaction as she felt the weight of his length settle in her mouth. Stroking it softly with her tongue, she could feel the heat that her actions were igniting and it fueled her own heady desires.

"Oh, dear God! Yes!" John crowed with utter male pleasure.

* * *

><p>Satisfied at completing his usual hygienic nightly routine, Will gently patted his face with a towel in order to remove the excess face astringent upon his skin. Making sure that everything was in pique order, he nodded at his reflection once, folded the face towel and placed it off to the side before making his way towards the bedroom. He switched off the lights before closing the bathroom door and shivered at the slap of cold that met him.<p>

Shaking off the feeling, he noticed his pajamas rather distraughtly thrown onto the bed. Well that was odd; usually Abby had his clothes laid out in a perfect set-up on the bed after his nightly showers.

"Stew must've been burning," he idly commented. Silently, he pattered across the carpeted floor and went about disentangling the mess on the bed. Finding his gray stethoscope boxers, Will tugged the towel off and turned lay it on the back of his chair when movement caught the corner of his eye right outside the window. He noticed a tall, bald male in his neighbor's kitchen. If that was not odd enough, the guy had his shirt wide open, easily showing off a healthy strip of pale taut flesh.

"Huh. Must be her boyfriend…," Will commented to no one in particular. He deposited the towel onto the back of the chair and moved closer to the window, eyes squinting to gain focus, his glasses currently sitting next to the face towel in the bathroom at the moment. "…or a boy toy."

Will laughed at the small joke he had made, given that the man in question looked to be a few years older than his neighbor a "boy toy" was definitely not a precise description. "I wonder where she is…"

The last thing he needed was some television drama where his neighbor was currently drugged up and cuffed to the bedroom headboard while this creepy tall, bald guy prepared himself some dinner before slicing bits and pieces of her to cook and serve with his bell peppers. Lord, he was watching way too many psycho thriller law shows. Getting his thoughts back on track rather than imagining his British neighbor cuffed to a bed, Will began to look around the house through available un-shaded windows. Nothing.

He could not find her anywhere. And so, Dr. William Zimmerman with boxers in hand was currently leaned over, arms bracing against the windowsill of his bedroom, stark naked and bum out, trying to play hide and seek with his neighbor. His attention was soon drawn to movement in the kitchen. And it wasn't from the guy. Oh no. He was still bent over the kitchen sink, arms spread out as if to steady himself.

No. The movement was precisely just above the edge of the sink that Will was able to see, conveniently right at the waist of this new guest. A dark brown movement. Some might even say a brunette movement. And from the bobbing that this pile of brunette like curls was currently performing coupled with the look of what could only now be classified as ecstasy on the man's face, it only took William Zimmerman a nanosecond to understand exactly what was happening in his neighbor's kitchen.

"Shit!" Eyes bugged out in comprehension a split second before equilibrium was compromised and the young cardiologist found himself face first with a mouth full of carpet. It took a breath longer for him to realize that he was naked and his bare ass was now high in the air. Out of embarrassment, he shoved his legs through his boxers. A flush tinged his skin when he was forced to rearrange himself a bit more comfortably before completely sliding on his underwear.

'No way! I must have been seeing things! She wouldn't! Not in a kitchen!' His mind raced with different claims, but it was no use. He could not deny the simple truth. His neighbor was giving a complete stranger a blowjob – in the middle of her kitchen!

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><p><strong>AN:** Yeees! Poor Will, forced to witness the very thing that all men enjoy. I love torturing these characters. And Will is soooo cute! I can imagine him being all shy and just utterly adorable! Hope you guys like this installment. Forgive me for any grammar errors! Looooong week.

Please read and review! Pwease!

-two finger salute-

Entrenched out.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** I do not own these characters, just the smutty interactions they have. Oh yea.

**A/N:** Part 5 of the story. Wow I had no idea it would actually be this long, I'm sorry guys! Really I am! I do hope you are all enjoying it so far. Again, I thank you for the reviews. I am so sorry about the lateness of this update. Midterm exams are up for my classes and the professors keep pounding on the freaking quizzes and research papers. But I finally found a little gap in my schedule to devote to my writing.

And so here is Part 5!

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><p>Will remained seated on the carpeted floor of his bedroom, his damp head pressed tightly against the slate blue wall right underneath his window. His mind had shutdown entirely after processing the fact that he had just witnessed his rather hot neighbor giving that tall creepy looking guy a blowjob. His mind drifted back to when he had first met her, dressed in that skimpy pajama set almost a week ago. She had been so brusque with him; her British tone clipped and brook no room for argument. Just from that first encounter, Will would have pegged her as an Ice Queen. An ironically, hot Ice Queen.<p>

Reaching up, he gently began rubbing his eyes, the vestiges of shock finally ebbing away as he learned to slowly accept the truth he had seen lay bare before him. He had wanted a nice quiet night. Eat a little stew, catch up on his patient notes, and have a cuddle with his very beautiful wife before passing out completely too some Syfy ass-kicking drama. Instead, he was sitting here – half naked, on his bedroom floor, and sporting a semi-boner like some sick peeping Tom. God, if Abby walked in now…this would look infinitely worse than what happened in the bathroom earlier with him flexing in front of the mirror nude.

After a few more moments of controlling his accelerated heart rate, Will debated what to do. Morally, he should simply just walk away, pretend as if he never saw anything, and move on with his life.

'Denial is not good for the mental stability, it will just gnaw at you buddy,' Will cringed at the mental reminder his brain initiated. 'Damn you psych rotation!'

He hated it when his voice of logical reason blared in his thoughts like an oversized neon billboard. But, it did have a point. He'd get distracted, probably snappy, until it consumed him. And the last thing he needed was to get psycho-analyzed by his wife, it being her department and all, and have her find out that he was basically having sexual thoughts of his neighbor. And not only that, but inherently have a connection to a tall, bald man. No, no, no. Definitely not an option. 'Don't need to get castrated here.'

The heated mental debate continued minutes longer before Will decided on his next course of action. Growling, he stood and bounded towards the bathroom, leaping on top of the bed for extra speed and bounce. Flinging open the white door, he raced inside and quickly scrounged his side of the vanity counter for his glasses. Upon finding them resting right next to his face towel, Will raced out of the bathroom, practically hopped over the bed and pressed his body back against the wall he vacated only minutes before.

Heart beating heavily, breath short and quick, Will fumbled to slide his glasses back on, achieving it on the third try. With one breath, he turned on all fours. In another, he started to rise and peer over the window sill.

* * *

><p>John inhaled sharply when he felt the gentle roll of his wife's tongue rove over the sensitive area just underneath the head of his aching cock. She was magnificent in this, much like everything else she did. Head lolling backwards, he gave her full reign of control over his body, hands twitching at the edge of the sink, urging him to tangle them into the silken tresses of her hair. However, he would not succumb to that urge – well, atleast try.<p>

Helen, for the most part, was enjoying the power she had over this man. She knew that few people had ever seen her husband out of control and John was the epitome of it. He was always in command, never allowing his opponents to see any glimpse of vulnerability. And too see him now, trembling under her expert ministrations. The sensations it invoked in her were heady. Under her hands she could feel his muscles quivering as he struggled to remain still. Moving back slightly, her hands moved to wrap around the thick base of his shaft, mouth watering at the sight of him so fully engorged and throbbing with need – need for her. His blatant desire for her was always a positive stroke for her femininity, John's body was always eager and ready to make love to her, and at her age, it was always flattering to see the evidence of his 'eagerness'. She held him steady and, with the tip of her tongue, traced very softly around the mushroom shaped head of his hardness. Slowly, little by little she eased him into the warm cavern of her mouth. Tickling him with her tongue, she began moving him in and out, trying to tease him.

John groaned in suppressed passion, knowing that she was purposefully torturing him, trying to bring him to insanity. And heavens knew she was succeeding. 'Good Lord! She's bloody amazing at it,' his mind practically bellowed at him when he felt her flutter her tongue against the tip of his erection as she continued to slide the hot confines of her mouth down the length. The mixture of teasing his sensitive tip while that incredibly soft mouth of hers continued to suckle him was mind-blowing. Down on her knees, she could hear the gasps and moans of her husband in the background, but her sole focus was the erotic act that was bringing both of them so much pleasure. Helen smirked, despite the current task. His mindless babbles of incoherent sentences were music to her ears, physical proof that he was thoroughly enjoying her attentions. Well, the turgid appendage in her mouth was proof enough, but she liked to hear the fruits of her labor from time to time.

Suddenly, she felt him trying to pull her away. His fingertips first brushed along her jaw line before gently urging her to stop. Grasping his wrists, she pulled his hands behind his back and increased the tempo, completely ignoring his attempts to stop this sensual exchange. This brought forth a string of curses interjected with moans on his end as her mouth moved lower, engulfing more and more of his raging erection with each downward movement. Before long, she felt the tip of his swollen member press into the back of her throat. Perfect.

Still holding his hands in place, Helen looked up, sapphire eyes glinting in the soft glow of the kitchen lights as she peered at him through her long, thick lashes. John was struck speechless by that look, his mouth simply hanging open as his breaths turned into labored gasps of anticipation. The hold on his desire was tenuous at best and his wife was on the cusp of obliterating the remaining tendrils in one fell swoop.

"Helen…," he pleaded. Not knowing how long his control would last, hoping that she would take pity upon him and allow him to relax. However, his petite wife, he knew, would give him no quarter. With one final swirl of her tongue along the underside of his rigid member, Helen relaxed her throat and allowed her husband to slide down the tight passage.

"Fuck!" Not one for using such vulgar terms, John could think of no other word to vocalize the indescribable pleasure that shot through him at the feel of his wife's throat enclosing on his throbbing cock. None whatsoever. His hands shifted, easily breaking the gentle hold she had on his wrists as his fingers delved into the silky tendrils of her thick, rich hair. He did not, however, forcefully thrust himself deeper into her mouth. Despite being so far gone in the haze of pleasure, John retained the thought to control his hips. This was her game, her turn for control and he would keep himself in check for her.

Helen's eyes fluttered closed as she felt the thick mass slide deeper into her mouth, she kept her calm, easing her heart rate and relaxing her body. With renewed vigor, she began to gently ease more of his rigid staff into her mouth until she could take no more. The broken intake of breath that her husband inhaled brought forth such a sharp satisfaction that she felt a purr vibrate in her throat. The sensation of her thrumming chords against his trapped member caused John to shudder, almost relinquishing control and thrust madly into her mouth like some rabid dog consumed by the heat.

Forcefully shoving down the instinct to delve repeatedly into her warmth, John's fingers tensed in her hair, signaling to the lovely nymph upon her knees that he was dangerously close to climaxing. He was amazed at her skills, prior to meeting Helen, many years ago; he had, of course, dallied with other females and they had performed this same act for him on several occasions. But none, absolutely none, of them had ever taken him as deep as Helen was capable of doing at this moment. Nor did any of these women do it with such wild, passionate abandon. There was a sensuality with his wife that no other had been capable of doing, and even this crude act portrayed to be the epitome of submission for women, was transformed into a glorious juxtaposition of power.

Even on her knees, she portrayed an air of regality and confidence. No she was no submissive queen locked in an ivory tower. She was a warrior, a Joan of Arc that controlled and submitted to no man. He was the helpless knave that would follow her to all corners of the world. No, even in this act, Helen commanded full control and he would willingly submit to her every whim. Once again, he tried to withdraw, but his wife held onto him, slender hands clasping his buttocks and holding him firmly in place as her head bobbed rhythmically against his groin.

"Helen…please…stop…," he groaned through gritted teeth. He was losing control and fast. He needed her to stop.

Pace increasing, John threw his head back, that tightening at the base of his shaft was the tell-tale sign that his lovely wife had effectively decimated all of his control. Unfortunate for him, or perhaps fortunately, he could no longer tell within the erotic bubble his mind was captured in, his wife did not slow down at all. Eyes, which had slipped closed earlier at some point he could not recall, snapped open when he felt warm slender fingers squeeze his balls.

"Helen!" he roared helplessly towards the ceiling, body tense as he felt pleasure rip through his body like lightning slicing through a helpless tree on a hill. Bright, hot, white flashes of pure unadulterated pleasure. The fingers in her hair clenched tightly, as if the silken mass would keep him tethered to reality, however, no act of fortune would help him at this moment. "Helen…Helen…By Gods…so good…," he babbled incoherently, his hips jerking forward as his release reached its peak.

Helen felt his body tense, felt the massive length in her mouth throb before a flood meet the back of her throat. There was no surprise upon her face as she felt the salty mixture explode into the confines of her mouth. Perhaps two decades ago, but not anymore. She enjoyed the flavor of her husband, greedily suckling the fruits of her work. His taste was unique and utterly wonderful. With a hidden smile, the triumphant brunette stilled her head, feeling her husband's fingers bury deeper as his hips took on a life of their own. Synchronized with each ejaculation, John's hips would involuntarily thrust forward, bathing her mouth with his pleasure, and she enjoyed every moment and every drop he had to offer.

With one last final thrust, John expelled all that remained within him. Leaning forward, his palms laid flat against the counter edge, fingers curving into the sink, as his shoulders sagged with the exertion of his recent release. His mind, which was foggy from the climax, slowly returned to take in the sounds of his surroundings. He could hear his wife's soft slurps as she cleaned the remnants of his…enjoyment from his softening member. A small pop filled their ambient kitchen followed by what he could only describe as a satisfied smacking of lips preceding a moan.

"Delightful," she purred, eyes glancing upwards to see her husband's face scrunched up, she knew that look well. It was the face he always had when his mind processed extremely powerful stimuli. Her voice held just a _tinge_ of arrogance when she next spoke, "I hope you enjoyed this as much as I have," she teased him mercilessly. Her comment was rewarded by a half grin.

"Darling," he began. Noting how coarse his voice was, John was forced to clear his throat before starting again, a testament to the skills of his most gregarious wife. "With you, I always do," he delivered with smooth modesty.

Whether the flush on her cheeks was due to his compliment or her earlier actions, John still enjoyed the smattering of pink across her soft skin as she slowly stood to her full height. Taking her glorious time in doing so, she gently pressed her lips against his pelvic bone then to the sensitive skin right underneath his belly button; when she reached his rippling abs, her tongue delved between the hills and valleys before reaching his pectorals. Now fully standing, she gave one last kiss there before turning her head upwards to nuzzle his neck. The front of her body pressing against his own, full breasts crushing against his chest, as her arms swiftly encircled his neck at the same moment his strong arms wrapped securely around her waist. Nuzzling his neck she responded, "What a devilish tongue you have, sir."

"All the better to seduce you with, my dear," he quipped back good-naturedly. All Helen could do was laugh.

* * *

><p>"Holy shit! Holy shit! Jesus Christ, holy shit!" Will repeated the mantra verbally over and over. His eyes were practically gecko sized in comparison to his face as he watched the couple's tête a tête. Never, in all of his, albeit limited, experiences had he ever seen something so…passionate…raw…un-fucking-believably good. Slack-jawed with a deep crimson hue staining his entire face, Will was beyond floored. He was unable to see the woman's face, as she was effectively hidden by the kitchen sink, with only the top of her head visible to his sight, but the look on the man's face was enough to tell Will that whatever she was doing, she was doing <em>really<em>,_ really_,_ really_, well.

For once in his life, William Zimmerman: accomplished youngest cardiologist in all of Old City, was jealous. Not aggressively jealous to the point he would go insane and start slaughtering people left and right, but jealous enough in the sense that he really wanted one of _those_ to end his night. He could imagine his wife's face if he were to go downstairs right now and demand a blowjob. He'd probably be slapped seven ways till Sunday. Wincing, he felt a slight pull between his legs and Will tried his damned best to get that under control. After a few unsuccessful moments he just reached down and re-adjusted himself inside his boxers. This was going to be a long and painful night for him. For once in his life, he did not feel like passing out on the bed after a long and arduous day at work. He wanted to make love with Abby, but knowing her, she would be overly concerned for him and his health. Most likely she would insist on him getting some sleep since he had another surgery scheduled at 9 tomorrow morning. Damn.

He loved Abby, he truly did. But Will had noticed that there seemed to no longer be a spark within them. Spontaneity was absent in their lives recently. He had hoped that moving away from the city and all of its chaos would help him and Abby find some time together here in the suburbs. It was much easier to seduce your wife when there wasn't someone banging on your bedroom wall telling you to keep it quiet or thumps from the ceiling above the living room followed by screams and cries of pleasure. So far, for the past week, all they did was climb into bed and pass out. And Will had to admit it - he really did miss the sex. With a frustrated sigh, he thumped his head against the cold glass window, trying hard to take his mind away from his beautiful impish wife.

She was beyond gorgeous. Hell, he was surprised someone with her level of brains and beauty would fall for him! Since he was a kid, Will was the proverbially awkward child who got straight A's in class and watched crazy Sci-Fi movies. He wasn't into sports. He was mainly on his own in school, never got into the fads, and was socially awkward with girls. Dating later on in the years had been difficult. After several failed attempts at actually trying to get a relationship to work, Will had given up. Then he had met Abby. And everything changed. On their first date, he had been nervous and she tried so hard to make him comfortable. He remembered laughing the whole entire night, after his initial bouts of nervousness, when they exchanged stories about their lives and jobs.

She was pleasant, vibrant, joyous, and all the other words within Miriam Webster's dictionary that could describe all the positive feelings in the world. She didn't even bat an eyelash or scoff at him when he mentioned his obsession with all things supernatural. In fact, she seemed so delighted in talking to him about her own personal beliefs and preferences when it came to the topic. She preferred werewolves over vampires and in a zombie apocalypse she would hide in a Wal-Mart. His hopes were dashed when she stated that she was in Old City for a few days only, apparently working on a case that was given to her in Quantico. Will remembered feeling crushed. Out of all the women in the world, he found one that complemented him so well, only to find that she wasn't staying permanently.

Abby had instantly picked up on his distress, and questioned him about it. Apparently, her training had made her very forthright in any relationship she was in. This was why she had so little of them in her whole entire life. Most men could not handle a woman who was aggressive and straight forward, it scared them shitless. After talking about his…reservations, Abby had become teary eyed and stated that no one, aside from her close relatives, had ever expressed this sense of sympathy at being away from her. After that first date, they had spent every day together when neither he nor she was busy. From slothing around in his apartment or going to dinner and the movies, they did everything they could before she was forced to go back to Virginia.

They made the long distance relationship work, each knowing the weight of the sacrifice they were enduring at the time. He would visit her on his breaks at Virginia, and she would schedule her vacations up in Old City whenever she could. It wasn't long before he finally proposed to her. Once he was settled in the hospitals and found a rotation he could handle, he was popped the question to Abby right in front of her parents after dinner with the family. He recalled the wedding they had in Virginia. Right in the backyard of the house she grew up in. It was perfect.

* * *

><p>"Do catch your breath, John," Helen regaled with a mischievous air, turning on her bare feet to face the kitchen sink. John, whose blood was only starting to return to his brain once more, had no forth coming reply and settled on keeping his comments retracted until he could fully engage in a proper banter with his wife. She for the most part, smiled wickedly as the sharpened cutting knife was picked up and vegetables were sliced with expert precision, this time with a flourish.<p>

Feeling his bearings returning to normal, he settled his large hands upon the curve of her hips, gripping tightly enough to emphasize how she had thrown off his equilibrium, but not enough to blemish her fair skin. Breathing finally returning to normal, he growled seductively in her ear, "You are a very naughty woman, Helen Druitt."

Helen shivered at the contact, her body still thrumming with unabated desire. Her earlier display had left in her quite a state and if she knew her husband well enough, he would return the favor. One thing her husband would never stand for and that was to leave her in a sexually aroused state. She still had not decided whether this was a fault of his, quite frankly, she enjoyed his tenacious attentions to her body. Thoroughly ignoring him at the moment, Helen turned her head, as of considering his position near her form.

"Do not start something you cannot finish, my love," she taunted. A thrill of excitement rained down her spine as he buried his face against her neck and bared his teeth against her skin. His answering growl at her assumption that he was incapable of satisfying her urge was paired with a not so gentle bite upon her flesh

"And do not place assumptions on my stamina," he baited back once he finished suckling at her slender neck. The hands on her hip travelled south, caressing and massaging along her outer thighs until fingertips reached the edge of the shirt tails. Hands slipped underneath the fabric, hissing at the feel of hot silken skin. Helen felt the stirrings of John's desire against her back. The lengthening member still damp from her saliva easily moistened her back, forcing the underside of his growing cock to cling greedily to the cloth.

"I arrest my case," she emphasized with a smirk invisible to his sight.

"Pardon?"

"I recall earlier that you were worried of not having enough stamina to engage in our nightly activities for more than one round. As this is act two and you are now contradicting your earlier statement, I believe that is what you would consider and closed case in my favor, is it not?" She felt, rather than heard, the resounding chuckle emanating from his chest at her antics and quite correct assimilation of the situation. Again, John said nothing. Helen quickly chalked another point on her mental board for this win.

Pearly white teeth latched onto her creamy neck as John swiftly moved the scrappy bit of lace she called underwear to the side, fully exposing her trembling quim to his searching fingers. Slick wetness bathed the tips, urging her was no longer necessary on his end.

"John, what are you doing?"

"If you have not figured that out yet, then I must be doing something wrong," with a ferocity that shocked him, he positioned himself, legs spreading to brace both their bodies, before plunging into her. Never had he been so hard in his life, and never had he desired Helen more than at this very moment. The months apart were torturous and this restless need was present in the lack of gentleness in his movements. Barely waiting for her to adjust to his intrusion, John pulled out nearly to the tip before plunging back inside of her from behind with a vengeance.

Helen was shocked at the aggressive thrusts that John was taking. So unprepared was she for this raw onslaught that her hands slackened, knife dropping to clatter ominously in the sink. "John! Dear God! Oh my…John…"

* * *

><p>Will sighed airily at the memories. 'And to think that was only a few years ago,' he thought in shock. Time had flown by so fast and now he was married to the woman he would dote on forever. He smiled at the image of Abby dressed in full white, fresh lilacs braided in her golden hair like a trailing halo. She had confessed to him once that she had always dreamed of a 'fairy-tale' type of wedding with fresh flowers and open space. Never did he regret asking her parents to have the ceremony in their home, the home that she had grown to love with such a passion. The massive open space of their backyard laced with hanging lights that gave the affects of floating, glittering fireflies combined with fresh wild flowers became a world just meant for him and Abby. She was ecstatic that he had taken drastic measures to ensure that her wedding was the one she had dreamed of. It truly was one of his more brilliant ideas.<p>

He shook his head, finally getting back to reality. He would have the rest of his life to linger on thoughts of his wife. His wife! Reality crashed around him like cymbals falling from a 100 foot building.

'Jesus Christ! I'm married and I'm spying on my neighbor getting it on!' Will groaned in a futile attempt to ease his conscience. It did nothing at all, guilt began seeping through the cracks and he stood there for seconds, horrified at the thoughts that he was, indirectly, cheating on his wife. Hands ran through his hair in frustrated rows, causing the damp locks to protrude in disheveled spikes. He looked down at his neighbor; his attempt was for a brief glance but his jaw dropped at the sight that now met his eyes.

Only moments before they were locked in fellatio and now, now they were just going at it like rabbits! Leaning closer to the window, nose almost pressed against the glass, William Zimmerman stared, mouth agape, at the sight of his neighbor and her…companion? Friend? Fuck buddy? He didn't even know what to call tall bald and creepy.

'Okay. Maybe not that creepy…the man's obviously got skill! If her face is anything to go by and the way she's bouncing, buddy's got some technique! Props to ya, my man!' Will thought with a sense of respectful awe.

"Oh no! No, no, no!" He did NOT just think that. This wasn't some porno that needed to be commented on like some damn movie critic.

'And he's a guy. Why the hell am I looking at a _guy_! I should be looking at her! No!' Will thumped his head on the glass, on the border of nearly shattering the thick pane. 'That's wrong! I shouldn't be looking at her! Or him! This is wrong!' Despite the mental battle, he continued to look at the couple. Will blushed a deep crimson red when he saw the stranger lift his neighbor's leg and press her knee onto the counter. His mind was ready to explode when he watched the stranger's free hand disappear under his line of sight, and it was pretty damn obvious what his intentions were!

Will was flabbergasted.

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><p>Breathless and lost in the sensation of the animalistic way in which her husband was currently claiming her, Helen fell back against John's solid, powerful frame. She moaned wordlessly pushing herself back against his driving thrusts. She gripped the edges of the sink with white-knuckled intensity for support as John pounded into her from behind. One arm moved to embrace his neck, holding his head closer to her body as she arched her back, effectively giving her amorous husband more leverage to plunge deeper into her depths.<p>

"Helen. Beautiful. Intoxicating. Perfect. Will you come for me, my love?" John grunted out between thrusts. He steadied her hips with one hand while he reached for her thigh with the other. Lifting the perfect limb, he planted her knees onto the counter top, stretching her muscles deliciously while opening her more for his onslaught. The hand on her hip moved under her to add to the conflagration racing through her body. He could feel her internal muscles gripping him with each thrust, creating an incredibly tight, erotic, milking sensation throughout his hips.

"Oh . . .yes . . .anything . . .YES," Helen screamed out as ripples of pleasure claimed her sweat-dampened body. His hips slapping her tender bottom with each thrust combined with his slick fingers plucking and squeezing her engorged nub triggered a cataclysmic orgasm.

John didn't let up, even as he felt her body twist and tremble with release. He continued gripping her tightly against his body and holds her steady as he thrust into her with an ever-increasing urgency. His fingers worked at a maddening pace to keep her on that pinnacle, wanting her to enjoy another satisfying climax. Even before the shudders of her last release faded, John felt Helen buck up against him, her well rounded derriere slamming ferociously against his pubic bone as she pushed herself into him. Lost in the throes of an even stronger release than the one before, spasms racked Helen's body. The convulsions forced her muscles to clench his member even tighter. Suddenly, he pulled her hard against him, slamming into her one final time. He arched his body as his own powerful release flooded into her still-quivering backside.

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><p><strong>AN:** Wow, again I am really sorry for the long update time. Been really busy. I hope you enjoy this chapter. One more to go! Review is love!

-two finger salute-

Entrenched out.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Sanctuary characters. Only the smut.

**A/N:** Part 6! Final chapter of this smut train. I know I have a sad face too. So please enjoy. This chapter has some Abby/Will love, so for all you fans out there – ENJOY! ;)

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><p>Satiated. No. Beyond satiated. Tremors ran through two connected bodies. Breaths finally evening out from short, sharp gasps. Heartbeats slowing down to a normal pace. Helen Druitt tipped her head back, the curve of her husband's shoulder a welcoming comfort to her raging body. She felt John's hand move from between her legs and encompass her waist, still keeping her as close to his body as possible. She felt his other hand rub along the trembling length of her thighs displayed across the granite counter top.<p>

'When did that get up there?' Helen could not recall when or if she had lifted her leg. 'Did he do it? My God! I must have been on the brink of bloody madness if he managed to accomplish that without my knowing. Although… he was doing an excellent job in distracting me with his hands. And mouth. And cock.' She mused with derision.

John gently massaged the firm muscles of her thighs, the long reach of his arm giving him the ability to reach just shy of her ankles without the need to over exert the stretch of his body. He nuzzled her neck, teeth grazing along her tender skin, nipping the flesh here and there with a lazy pace. 'He's as satisfied as I am,' she noted with genuine affection. She loved these moments, when they were both at the cusp of that hazy glorious edge. The moment was euphoric and brought forth such a calm and serene atmosphere.

"You are glorious…," he whispered reverently against the flesh of her tender slender neck. A humming response was given to his statement, causing the taller gentleman to cock an eyebrow at the lack of a verbal assurance on her end. "You do know this is the moment in which you return the compliment, my dear." He teased her affectionately, knowing from the trembling of her thighs that he had more than satisfied her sexual frustrations of the last few weeks.

"Mhm…," was her only comment, causing John to mockingly sigh at her expense. Still holding that false hurt bravado he leaned closer to her ear and wrapped his free arm around her shoulders.

"Ah…so I wasn't as…satisfying?" His boyish grin would have melted any stone cold preacher's heart. However, Helen would not be so easily swayed by the charm of her husband and lover. She had years of experience to build immunity against his arsenal of seductions, albeit they usually failed miserably, but try she did! Without uttering a single word, she easily broke his hold on her shoulders and stretched her arms above her head. Her muscles protested at first, a tinge of sweet pain breaking through the haze before the extension of muscle simply just felt _wonderful_. As she stretched, she could feel her husband's hands begin to wander sensually over her body. Large hands caressing the smooth expanse of her legs before wandering over her stomach and breasts and once again settling on her hips. After she reached the full extension of her limbs, Helen dropped her arms backwards to fall behind his neck, nails trailing seductively across the nape of his neck as he supported the weight of both their bodies.

When he felt her body begin to stabilize, John gently lifted her leg off the counter and slowly eased the strained limb back onto the ground. He was careful not to move unnecessarily. His wife's body had a tendency to be overly sensitive after an orgasm and the smallest movement, especially when they were still connected, could throw her into an even higher sensitized state.

"Helen, love…I am going to pull out now…," he whispered across her cheek.

A nod was given. Bracing her body, Helen prepared for the withdrawal. She stifled the cry of pain as he removed himself completely before settling down against his body, practically sagging into his embrace. No words were exchanged between them; he merely held her close – savoring the warmth from her petite form. With a content sigh she turned around in his embrace and cuddled into his broad chest.

"You. Were. Magnificent." Helen planted a kiss between his pectorals for every syllable. The action caused a small smile to form over his lips. She was always adorable after post coital bliss, bordering on the edge of silliness in her delirium. Although, he would never fully tell her that, he enjoyed their post-sex banter.

"For a moment I thought I fell below par that last round."

Helen scoffed against the expanse of muscle beneath her lips. Lifting her dark head she regarded him with a rather skeptical eye, "and when have you ever sought a goal with only 'below par' in mind, John Druitt?"

Rich, dark laughter rumbled deep within his chest, vibrating across her cheeks and calming her nerves even more. "I suppose I have not."

"You _suppose_…," she mocked purposely. He was positive that if her face was not currently pressed against his chest, she would have been rolling her eyes at the same time. This thought caused him to chuckle more, thus making Helen press her body even closer. She enjoyed the feel of John's body when he laughed heartily. The vibrations were a reminder of how alive he was; it always left her in a moment of tranquility to lie against him and hear his heartbeat, or lean against his massive frame and relish the sound of the purring like quality of his laughter that only he could achieve. For a moment, Helen was baffled by the sheer intensity of their connection. In her youth, she never believed in the cliché qualities that writers emphasized in their works pertaining to the effervescent nature that should embody couples in love. Despite her chosen career as an artist, she had always been a non-believer of those romantic atmospheres and perfect bonding relationships.

However, in the here and now; living as she did with this man before her. The cynical edge of her personality was quickly wrought to its knees and forced to concede to the possibility that there was a spiritual, almost ethereal, part to their relationship. Was it possible to have one man bring both peace and chaos to your life? To have his mere presence make your heart soar and ache in equivalent measures? To simply see his face and feel both honored and humbled? Looking up, Helen took in the sight of his strong jaw line, slightly bristled with the half day's worth of growth. Idly, she reached over and traced the roughened edge, her mind flashing back to classes of literature analysis and her days within the drama department. Unbidden, her next words slipped from her lips by mere memory.

" 'I serve him for his pleasure, not his good. Thus I keep him.' "

John's eyes shuttered closed as he felt cool fingers trace over the edges of his face. Her words, so softly spoken he had to strain to hear the soft murmur, made him smile. He gently angled his face forward and pressed his forehead against hers as the words Cleopatra spoke to Herod floated between them. "I believe the words must be rearranged, my love. It is I who should service to pleasure you. And I…who should make every effort to be kept by you."

"Even if it led you to ruin?" her voice held that teasing quality that made her words seem so sensual when delivered.

His answer was anything but teasing in nature. " 'Let Rome in Tiber melt, and the wide arch of the rang'd empire fall!' " His warm hands settled on her hips. " '_Here_ is my space.' " He continued, the smooth baritones of his voice making her shiver in pleasure. _" '_Kingdoms are clay; our dungy earth alike feeds beast as man; the nobleness of life is to do thus; when such a _mutual pair_.' " With infinite gentleness, his strong arms embraced her fully. " 'And such a twain can do 't, in which I bind, on pain of punishment, the world to weet we stand up peerless.' " he ended the quote with a devilish grin, hoping that she would understand the weight of his borrowed words.

She watched his face as he spoke the words of Shakespeare to her ears, the way he emphasized certain points with a hiss or a drop in tenor. "You would give up everything just for me? Everything you have fought to achieve, lay to waste in your affection for me?"

"It is not _mere_ affection, I feel for you Helen. It was never affection. From the first sight, I was enraptured by you. And as time passed I became ensorcelled by every aspect of your being." He kissed her lips once, " 'Now for the love of love and her soft hours, let's not confound the time with conference harsh. There's not a minute of our lives should stretch without some pleasure now…' "

"I think we've dabbled in enough pleasure for tonight," her mischievous smirk sparking arousal in his nether regions. God, she was beautiful! Slender hands traced down his neck, following the flow of his strong arms and settled atop his appendages, which were firmly molded to her waist. Entwining their fingers and lifting her arms, she performed a perfect pivot. This left her encircled in his embrace with her arms paralleled to her body as his own arms formed an X across her chest. Before moving she paused and stared forward, eyes taking delight in watching the moon reflect over the front lawn. "I fell in love with you for your stubbornness. You refused to allow yourself to fail despite the hardships you had to endure in your youth. If you could so easily disregard everything you have ever worked for, I would never have fallen in love with you."

Although she understood the weight of his words, she could not understand how he could simply walk away from everything he achieved. His goals, his dreams, everything. Perhaps another woman would feel emboldened and special with such a confession, but she found that she could not live with the idea that any man, especially one as talented as John, would simply concede all their work for a woman. Was that not the reprimand he had given her all those years ago? She had, at one point in her youth, believed that she would give up her work in order to live with him in the States. The beginning of their relationship had been riddled with complications, to the point where they were separated by a sea. However, John had easily disapproved of her choices, verbally expressing his horror at how she would easily give up a dream for him. And now, the tables were turned.

"Perhaps my words were far too casually used without consideration to the weight in which they were written," whispering, he drew her closer. Cocooning her in his warmth, Helen basked in the ambience, grateful to have something solid to cling to during these cold nights. "You view my expressions of love in the extreme, as a way for me to casually let go of everything I worked for. Understand, my dearest Helen that the decision would not be casual. I understand the monumental loss of such a decision but still I would easily drop all materialistic properties I owned, just to be with you. This home, this way of life, everything – however! Do not view this decision as a weakness. I am the man who I am today because of you. Do you not see? If I were to ever lose you, Helen, a part of me – the better part – is lost as well. This was not a concept I understood when we were young, and now I do grasp the clarity of this message now that brashness has been tamed. A _dream_, my dear, can be reclaimed in a length of time and with the proper people to support such a cause. A _love_, once lost, is eternal." He broke the connection of one of their hands and reached up to tilt her head backwards. His breath hitched at the sight of her face illuminated by moonlight, "So yes, I will give up Rome and all its gloriousness to spend the remainder of my life wrapped in my Cleopatra's arms." He leaned forward and shared a gentle kiss with the woman of his heart.

When they broke the kiss, she admitted breathlessly, "how do you do that?"

Amused he arched a brow, "do what?"

"Utter words that can melt my resolve in moments," she shook her head.

"Conviction."

"Conviction…?" she questioned lightly.

"Yes, conviction. My words are not simple flattery; they are the truth to my mind and burned to my soul." In the moonlight, his eyes glittered like sapphires. Not the cold intensity that you would expect for a man of his stern features, but a warmth that drew the looker to stare deeper into the intensity of the emotions held in those irises.

Warmed and feeling utterly loved, she reached up and tugged his smooth head down for another brief kiss before speaking against those thin, but soft tiers, "well your conviction certainly burns with…," she wiggled against him, "a certain degree of intensity."

"Mhmm," he agreed, enjoying the stirring of passion she evoked.

"I love you, John Druitt."

She could feel his smile form against her lips, "And I love you, Helen Druitt. For all eternity."

Breaking away from him, she still held one of his hands in her own as she led them towards the stairs. "No more talk of falling empires," impishly she tugged him farther away from the kitchen, "besides…I do not see our love as a tragic tale of woe that leads to the destruction of one of the greatest political powers of the age." John followed willingly, easily drawn into the playful nature she was exerting. "No, definitely not a tragedy. We support each other, and find strength in our love…" As they approached the staircase, she swiftly bounded onto the first landing and twirled to face her husband. "Perhaps the story of Odysseus and Penelope." Fingers traced over the valley between his pectorals before fingers splayed over the warm taut skin above his heart. "A man torn away from his family and refuses to lose hope in returning to his wife and son while rebounding the overt sexual nature of a beautiful sorceress…"

Groaning, John relished the feel of those wondrous slender hands gliding over his body. Wrapping both hands about her waist, he tugged her close, forcing her to stand near the edge of the stair as their hips connected. "But even the beauty of the sorceress who captured him did not compare to the ravishing personage of his wife. The wife who waited 20 long years and rebutted 108 suitors in the fervent hope that her husband was not dead…" his head titled to the side, nuzzling her neck beneath the silken curtain of dark hair.

"Claim what's yours," she purred enticingly, eyes glancing upwards from beneath dark lashes.

Growling at her words, John bent down and lifted Helen into his arms bridal style. She had effectively aroused his primal nature and tonight, he was determined to provide his wife with a lesson they would feel well beyond the morning.

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><p>Mouth agape, William Zimmerman stood half naked in his bedroom window as he watched the interaction between his neighbor and the stranger. At first, he had assumed that the visiting male was just that – a visiting male. However, he was no quite as sure about his assumption as he was earlier in the night when the two shared a very, <em>very<em> intimate little hug.

'Yea. Like banging on the kitchen sink isn't intimate William…' his mind reprimanded him. Wincing, 'have I really gotten that cynical in my old age?'

When the couple disappeared from the kitchen, Will released a frustrated and heartbroken sigh. They really were entertaining. Moving away from the window, the young doctor began to rub his temple, the intensity of what he had just done was finally weighing on his conscience.

'Holy shit! I have no fucking shame! I just cheated on Abby! Holy Christ!' Pacing and sweating profusely, Will finally realized that there was one thing he could not deny; one thing that had been insistent through most of the night. His erection. He was, all pretenses aside, really horny. Growling, he looked at the door and made a decision.

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><p>Abby lifted the stainless steel ladle and poured the beef stew into the yellow ceramic bowl. Turning off the stove, she replaced the cover of the pot and moved towards the dining room table. Placing the bowl onto the black mat, she returned to the kitchen and picked up a bread knife and the wrapped Italian bread. Sliding the crusty golden loaf from its protective wrap, she sliced two thick cuts from the Italian loaf before re-wrapping the object. She was about to turn and exit back into the dining room until she felt strong arms wrap around her tiny waist and warm, wet kisses press into her neck.<p>

A bit ticklish in that area, especially the area just below her pulse point – which her lover was currently nibbling – Abby began to giggle and cocked her head towards the offender, hoping to stop him from teasing that particular point, "Will stop," she giggled, no longer able to hold her mirth as he continued to tease her ticklish spot.

A responding "nun-uh" was given from the perpetrator and he continued to lick and nibble forcing his beautiful wife to fall into an outright laughing fit. Satisfied that he had proven his point, although he did not know what point it was, he finally ceased his ministrations enough for her to turn around in his embrace. A radiant smile was formed over her perfect face. Sucking in a breath, Will impulsively leaned in close and captured her lips with passionate ferocity. A bit taken aback at his rather abrupt action, Abby's eyes widened in surprise, although she returned the kiss with full force either way. When he finally broke away, Will blushed at his own actions but the soothing fingers of his wife's slender hands combing through his wild air dried hair, brought forth such a confidence that he whispered, "you're so beautiful. And you get even more beautiful each time I wake up and every time I come home."

The smile on Abby's face split to an even more glorious and radiant curving of full lush lips. "What's gotten into you?"

"Nothing…," Will leaned in and kissed her softly once, "I just felt as if I haven't told you enough times how beautiful you were and how lucky I am that you even decided to marry me."

"Will…," there was something up and she knew it.

"I know, I know…," he began, "it seems out of the blue, but that's all it is. I was just upstairs thinking about how lucky I am and how far I've gotten in life and how unbelievable it is that someone as perfect and beautiful and absolutely incredible as you are, could have fallen in love with me."

Rolling her eyes, Abby tugged her husband's head down for a very long and thorough kiss that left him moaning in satisfaction and groaning when she broke the contact. "You're not a bad catch yourself Dr. Zimmerman," she teased affectionately.

Beaming with pride at her obvious approval of their relationship, Will pulled Abby closer and poured all his love into their next kiss. Tongue sliding out to tease hers opens before smoothly entering the confines of her mouth, tantalizing her own tongue to come out and join the fun. When her own pink muscle joined the fray, Will smirked triumphantly and pulled Abby flush along his own body in an attempt to close even the minutest distance.

A bit off balance with Will's sudden romancing, Abby regretfully pulled back. It wasn't like Will to be this…frisky. She was usually the one to initiate seduction in their marriage.

'And I've never failed in getting him going every time," she thought with a bit of arrogant triumph, 'but this is completely different. He's really horny!' As if Will was emphasizing her mental point, he thrust his hips against hers, the obvious outline of his erection pressing against her center through her jeans and his boxers so blatant. 'This could work!'

With a mental shrug, the young blonde threw her arms around her husband's neck and eagerly decided that a little midnight rendezvous was well needed and given that fact that she was still horny from the earlier play she had seen from their zealous neighbor earlier, she could use a good romp from her sexy husband. 'No point in questioning a nice gift. Just take it girl!'

Will pulled his lovely wife away from the kitchen island and eagerly made his way towards the living room. The last thing he needed to do was bang his hot wife on the kitchen. 'It'd be too weird after seeing _them_.' Entering the living room, Abby gasped in surprise as she was suddenly swept up in his arms effortlessly. His eyes sparkled with such openness she could feel her stomach flutter in response as he gave her a suave smile and teased, "I'm glad you got something out of me in this marriage."

He sat himself in the nearby white sofa chair, the thick cushions sinking with their combined weight. Twisting a bit on her new pseudo chair, she straddled his lap and gripped the thick back cushions, effectively trapping him. "And what did I get out of this marriage, Dr. Zimmerman?"

Before he responded, Will's mouth attacked hers in a fiercely passionate kiss, his tongue slipping between her lips and ravaging every corner of her mouth. Abby felt her entire body flare; a highly charged state of anticipation from this kiss. She lost all coherent thought and was left breathless when he pulled away. "You got a really cute husband out of it."

His cheeky grin was adorable and Abby felt a bubble of laughter escape her mouth as her gloriously crowned head of golden curls was thrown back. With her thoroughly distracted by his witty charm, Will began pressing moist, heated kisses down her throat and onto her enticing cleavage. He used his teeth to drag the low scoop neckline of her sweater even lower so his tongue could trace the swell of her breasts. Growling in mock annoyance, he lifted her light sweater off and discarded the item to some location on the other side of the room. The sight of her lacy white bra nearly gave Will a heart attack.

'Damn. She's so beautiful!' he thought helplessly as his fingers worked to get her bra off. It was obvious to his wife that her husband was very, very eager to get right down to it tonight.

'Not that he needs to get me prepped up,' she thought derisively, 'I was already rearin' to go!'

With the bra out of the way and joining the sweater on the carpet, Will's mouth settled over one taut nipple and began suckling strongly. Abby drew in deep several breaths and arched herself into him. His fingers moved to unbutton her jeans and did not bother to tug them down. Instead, he slipped past the flimsy barrier of her matching lacy knockers towards the inflamed the moist heat that was already aching for him.

'Holy hell! She's soaking wet!" he thought as his mouth continued to suckle on a tender nipple. 'You are the _man_, Zimmerman!'

Abby for her part was determined to get this show going and began to thrust her hips against his fingers, aching for him to explore the wet thatch between her legs. Luckily, her adoring husband retained the message and slipped a finger into the moist throbbing heat of her center.

"Yes!" she hollered. With practiced movements, Abby managed to somehow slide off her jeans and was now straddling her own near naked husband with only one last flimsy barrier in the way. However, when her husband inserted another finger within her center followed by the transfer of his attentions to her neglected nipple, she lost it completely. With arms now braced on her lover's shoulders, she was only barely aware of Will removing the remaining piece of cloth from her body with surprising expertise. His fingers continued to invade and stroke her mercilessly, driving her to near insanity with his skill. He really did have talented surgical hands. She pleaded with a heated moan, "Oh please, Will!"

His mouth left her breasts to trail sweet kisses back up to nibble the sensitive skin where her neck met her shoulder. Murmuring against her soft skin, he baited her, "What do you want Abby?"

"I want you . . . I want to feel you inside me," she begged wantonly. Satisfied at her confession, he shifted his body and used his free hand to adjust his boxers lower, effectively freeing his trapped cock. Moving to position himself, she gasped as he quickly entered her with one deep thrust, filling her completely. She felt Will's large hands gripping her hips, rocking her against him hard and fast. Never had she felt as desirable as to when her husband lost full control and wildly impale her with his thickness. She cried out in pleasure as the forceful thrusts of his muscular hips took her to even greater heights of desire. He drove up into her with long, hard strokes, pulling himself almost completely out before driving back into her softness.

With her eyes closed, Abby wore a look of total ecstasy on her delicately perfect features. It was the look that satisfied Will's ego each and every time he saw it; knowing that he had placed that look upon her face. Each of her sweet cries of passion sent an intense surge of arousal through his body. His own eyes slipped closed and he continued to drive his hips up, thrusting into her with an increasing urgency he had not felt since their first time making love.

Gripping Will's broad shoulders tightly, she felt an overwhelming pressure building inside her from the urgent pace that he was administering. Her husband grasped her hips even tighter as he continued to increase the rate of their movements. Realizing that he was reaching the peak before his wife was, Will moved his hands closer to the apex of her thighs and used his thumb to stimulate her throbbing clitoris. Suddenly, Abby shuddered violently in his grasp as an explosive release ripped through her.

At her scream of pleasure, Will's eyes snapped open and watched with amazement as her body shuddered with nearly violent tremors as she rode the waves of her release. He continued to drive into her relentlessly, giving himself up to the burning pleasure of her heat. With one, last, powerful thrust, he called out her name and held himself deep inside her as his own explosive release ripped through him.

"Abby!" he roared with his head thrust back against the hump of the sofa. He felt his wife slump against his body, his face pressed between the mounds of her perfectly soft yet firm breasts. For several minutes, husband and wife remained silent, the only sound punctuating the silence in the living room were their heavy breathing. Finally able to regain his voice, Will looked up at his wife, his voice filled with wry pleasure. "Wanna take this up to the bedroom?"

She raised a delicate brow at his forwardness, "and what about your dinner?"

"Beef stew isn't the meal I'd like to be eating right now." His own raised brow was prominent as a wicked grin spread across his face. With a laugh, Abby slipped off his lap and pranced towards the stairs but stopped half way to look over her shoulder.

"For some reason, I'm finding your blatant delivery to be really romantic," she stated with a brilliant smile as she shook her head and disappeared around the corner. Will smirked, having gambled that line. With the eagerness of a fresh puppy, he gave chase to his wife. Finding her near the staircase, he picked her up and hauled her over his shoulder before bounding up the stairs with her squeals of laughter trailing behind them.

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><p>The sun had barely peeked over the horizon as John Druitt awoke amidst the tangles of bed sheets and thick comforters. His arm was currently draped over his very naked wife with her back pressed solidly against his chest. This was the position that they had always slept in: with his chest braced against her back and his arms effectively cocooning her petite form against his warmth. With a cursory glance, John ensured that his gentle stirrings to wakefulness had not roused her from her slumber. After the extensive workout they had participated in, he knew she would be both sore and tired. Pressing his face into her soft curls, he inhaled her unique feminine scent and planted one soft kiss across her temple. Slowly and silently, he untangled himself from the sheets and slid out of the large bed.<p>

He sucked in a sharp breath as the cold within the room sliced through his body like needles. Stark naked, he looked down at his gorgeous wife and realized that she was beginning to shiver and shift, seeking his warmth unconsciously. Amused by her actions, he leaned over wrapped the comforter tighter around her naked body, wanting to make sure that she would wake up pleasantly warmed by her trapped body heat. With one final look and kiss to her nose, he turned towards the window and used his index finger to slowly lift the edge of the curtain. Outside he was welcomed by the sight of fresh snow blanketing the surface of the trees and the backyard.

Still moving silently, John began to part the curtains, knowing that the sight of freshly fallen snow would take Helen's breath away. Satisfied at his work, he finally felt his…sensitive…body parts reacting to the exposure of frigid air. He went to the drawers and pulled out of his pajama bottoms, not bothering with underwear and grabbed a black silk robe. The cold never bothered him much, having been used to living in this type of weather. He made his way towards the exit and paused when something caught his eye in one of Helen's drawers, which was slightly ajar. Changing his plans last minute, he grabbed the offending item and moved downstairs to get a fire going. He remembered how Helen had once confessed to him that she would rather have a fire roaring than turn on the heater.

'What a perfect way to spend the morning. Breakfast huddled underneath a single blanket in front of the fire.' Enjoying the thought he began to prepare.

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><p>Helen Magnus' eyes fluttered open, her body protesting at the idea of having to get up. When her vision focused onto the empty space on the bed beside her, she released a heavy sigh. Originally, she had desired to wake up in John's embrace, the natural heat of his body warming her fingers and toes. However, it was obvious that was no longer a viable plan. Sighing in irritation, she rolled over despite the obvious protestation of her aching muscles. Her sour mood was short-lived as she came face to face with the sight of fresh powder grazing along the limbs of the tree house in her backyard as well as the trees. The sight was majestically beautiful and she swiftly understood that John had purposely opened the curtains to their balcony with this result in mind.<p>

'He can be so thoughtful and sweet…,' she mused. With her energy returning, Helen curled the comforter and blankets around herself and rolled out of bed. The moment her toes were exposed, she hissed in a sharp delicate breath as icicles practically flooded her capillaries. Wincing, she planted her feet on the Persian rug underneath their bed and stood to her full height. Quick steps brought her to the door and she nearly yelped when her feet touched the wooden panels that lined the floor. They were ice cold.

Practically prancing on her two feet due to the chilliness, she made her way downstairs and was greeted with the sound of sizzling food – the wonderful scent of eggs and bacon.

'And he's making breakfast. John Druitt are you trying to seduce me again?' Although, the idea of having another arousing round with her handsome husband was a very scintillating idea, she knew that her body needed to warm up before engaging in any physical aerobics. When she was finally in view of the living room, she could see the burning flames of a healthy fire within the fireplace.

"Ohhh John Druitt you are exemplary," she whispered softly under her breath. As if her little comment was an omen, the subject of her reverence popped his head from the kitchen and looked at her standing in the hallway at the base of stairs covered in layers of blankets and a thick comforter.

"Good morning, my love," he beamed, stepping fully into the hallway in nothing but his black pajama bottom and matching silk robe, which was untied and exposed his perfectly chiseled chest and abs. He approached his wife and kissed her soundly on the lips.

"Aren't you cold?" she murmured against his lips, her arms spreading to give him access to the warmth in her little alcove of threads.

"Immensely…," he purred and stepped into her welcoming arms and wrapped his own around her waist, settling his hands on her perfectly rounded bottom.

"John! Bloody hell!" she hollered as large fingers enclosed around her derriere, _cold_ large fingers. Another cry left her mouth as he pulled her closer and crushed her naked breasts against his equally cold chest.

"Mhm, you are so warm Helen…," he whispered, enjoying the heat that spread through his body.

"And you are absolutely incorrigible!" she hissed in mock annoyance as he refused to let her go. Soon, the iciness of his limbs ebbed away and Helen closed her arms around his shoulders, effectively wrapping both of them in her makeshift set of clothes. Chuckling in that sinfully erotic manner, he lifted Helen up – her legs automatically wrapping around his waist – and led them towards the fireplace in the living room. With measured ease, he lowered her onto the pile of pillows he had set up there an hour ago accompanied with a low table.

"Stay here while I finish preparing breakfast," he stated in a mock order. She responded with a salute. When he grunted in response and moved to stand up, her hand moved swiftly to land a firm smack on his backside.

"That's right. Go prepare my breakfast and make sure there's a fresh pot of tea with it!" He turned his head and raised a brow in response. They stared at one another for a few moments before Helen's musical laughter filled the room, she could not hold the stern façade for too long. With a flourish, John turned and bowed deeply at the waist adding a theatrical air to her little play of dominance.

With a wink he left her to her business and began to plate the meal before the bacon could burn. Helen stretched out beneath her layers and luxuriated in the soreness of her body. It was refreshing in a way to have a physical reminder of someone's claim upon you. Not to say that she herself enjoyed being a property, but there was a claim that hurt and a claim that strengthened. And John certainly never harmed her with his show of dominance from time to time. He was always loving and tender in his touches even when they exchanged in some very rough sex. Helen knew that it was due to the fact that she trusted John in a manner that she had never had in anyone else aside from her father. Burying her face in the throw pillows that littered the floor, Helen relaxed and listened to the gentle pop and crackle of the logs. She lifted her head when the sound began to die away, indicating that the fire needed to be stoked. She sat up, her eyes landing on the iron poker leaning against the stone wall. Helen grabbed the item and began to prod and stoke the fire back to a healthy blaze.

As she did so, something caught her attention. Beneath the layer of ash that had gathered at the bottom of the fireplace, she could see a blue string like material. Tentatively, she used the poker to gently tug the mysterious item away from the burning center and closer to the stone edge. When she pulled the string free, she realized that the material was silk in quality with just a hint of lace that held black singes near the edges.

'Bloody hell…' she had to roll her eyes, '…really? Just for this John, you are going to suffer immensely.' A grin just shy of evil formed over her lips at the plan blossoming in her mind.

Having the tea already prepared, John placed all the necessities on the tray and moved back towards his lovely nymph of a wife. As he approached her with a very enthusiastic edge to his step, he was stopped dead in his tracks when he was faced with the sight of his wife dangling a very familiar piece of blue silk with her fingertips.

"Explain." It was not a request. It was not an order. It was a threat. Mentally he backpedaled and cursed his oversight, having been too eager to make his wife the perfect breakfast; he forgot to check in on that particular quest.

"Well…um…," he began.

She lifted a dark eyebrow and began to tap her foot impatiently on the rug. "Yes?" Her voice held that iron edge that made him physically cringe.

"It's...not what –"

"Not what it looks? Really John! You're telling me that this doesn't look like my blue silk negligee. The one that you bought me three years ago – burned?"

He winced when her voice reached that level bordering on yelling and slowly made his way towards her, placing the tray of food on the low table and looking to her once again, this time his hands held palms forward as a sign of supplication. "Well it is…"

"Obviously! Now why on earth is it in the fireplace?" she threw the item back into the burning fire, the object hitting its mark despite the fact that her vivid blue eyes were well glued onto his form. "I highly doubt it sprouted legs and crawled its way into the fireplace and lit itself up."

"Well…of course no-"

"So?" the look on her face spoke volumes upon the underlying anger that ached to be released. He treaded carefully.

"_He_ saw you in it, Helen. The last thing I wanted was a reminder that he got a bloody _show_ out of it."

She threw her hands up in the air at this confession. "Out of all the _bloody idiotic_ reasons. Bloody hell!" She shrugged deeper into her blankets and began to march towards the stairs, no longer filled with desire to spend a morning with her stupidly jealous husband. As she moved right past him, she felt steel like bands wrap around her waist and preventing her from moving any further. "I swear to God, John Druitt, if you do not release me your possible future bloodline will suffer tragically!"

"Helen, please…," he begged, something he would only do for her. He knew going through with his plan would place him in a very awkward position, and at the moment it had seemed like a wonderful way to expel come frustrations at the idea of a much younger man ogling his wife. Now, however, it seemed very idiotic indeed.

Helen remained rigid in his embrace, it would seem to him that she was currently using the cold shoulder when in fact she was struggling to keep her face straight. He had looked so utterly crushed when she had caught him. The exact image of a boy caught with his hand buried elbow deep in the biscuit tin. And to hear him practically begging her to hear him out in _that_ melancholy tone, it was almost too much. Almost.

"Please what? How could you possibly correct this mistake? What were you hoping would happen?" She truly was curious as to what his plan was, as genuinely immature as it was.

Sighing in defeat, he dropped his bald head onto her shoulder and began to explain, "I was hoping that you would forget it ever existed, or perhaps misplaced it. Then afterwards, I would have taken you shopping to replace it for six other pairs."

'Hm…new undergarments…I am overdue to replace the ones that I have. And Christmas is around the corner. Now would be the best time to purchase new things for the new year…' she idyllically mused. "Fine. You can take me shopping now."

"Pardon?"

"Shopping. Underwear. Now." She repeated before shrugging him off and making her way towards the staircase for a hot shower. When she disappeared John continued to stare in shock at the sudden turn of events.

'She out-maneuvered me…,' he thought in wonder. 'Saucy minx…' With a predatory gleam in his eyes, John shrugged his silk robe off and made his way upstairs. No reason his wife had to shower alone, after all.

* * *

><p>William Zimmerman was a very happy man. He had called the hospital earlier and informed them that due to certain complications in scheduling, he would not be able to perform the morning surgery until later in the afternoon. This allowed him to spend another several hours making love to his wife Abby. Still grinning like a fool, he heard his wife bustle around in the kitchen, cooking a very early lunch. They had managed to crawl out of bed and into decent clothing when their growling stomachs had informed them of the need for sustenance,<p>

With a relieved sigh, he looked outside and noticed that the flag to the mailbox was lifted.

"Abby, I'm going to grab the mail!" He hollered from the hallway closet as he searched for his heavy overcoat.

"Ok!"

Opening the front door, Will rubbed his arms as he slowly made his way towards the mailbox. Despite the sun gleaming in the afternoon, the weather was still horrendously cold. When he reached the mailbox, Will began to filter through the stash, an old habit he could never break despite the weather. A movement across the street caught his attentions. Helen, the artist from across the street, was exiting her home wrapped in a very stylish set of gray denim jeans, thigh high leather black boots, and a very tasteful black coat the landed just shy of her knees. Will waved at her enthusiastically as the image of her dressed in that negligee flashed across his thoughts.

His wave, however, died instantly when he noticed another figure exiting her home. Almost instantly, he realized that the black Mercedes was still parked in front of his neighbor's house. Blushing, Will turned away, although the fact that there was nothing else to look at down the street left him fairly caught. Realizing that there was no escape, he turned his gaze back towards the…couple? He watched as Helen fastened the tall male's overcoat before turning and spotting him for the first time. She offered him a warm, affectionate smile that left Will blushing an even darker shade of red. He was about to return the smile when his eyes locked onto the cold steel gaze of the ball-headed stranger.

The murderous look on his face drained all the color from the young cardiologists face and this time, when he did turn away, it was obviously from fear. Shuffling his feet, Will moved to turn back to the house when he heard Helen speak.

"Really John. Behave yourself!" She scolded in that perfectly clipped British accent.

"Of course, my dear. Please do forgive me." Responded the male in a deep British accent as well.

Finding some confidence in her defense for him, Will turned his gaze back towards the two when something caught his eyes. His neighbor was sliding on her gloves as she walked towards the Mercedes. And with the sun angled to perfection, the glint of a very large diamond ring shone onto his eyes, nearly blinding him. Seconds later it was hidden beneath expensive fine leather gloves.

Shocked at the realization that she was wearing a wedding ring, he was struck speechless again when the stranger in question moved to open the door for the enigmatic brunette, again the sun glinting off a piece of metal on his left ring finger. A wedding band.

"Holy…shit…" Will bustled into the house as the _married couple_ drove off. He certainly had something to share with his wife.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** And that concludes this story! Oh that was so much fun to write! This chapter was much longer than I anticipated. Sorry for the wait! I hope you enjoyed my crazy Druitts and insane Zimmermans! Please read and review!


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